


Living With the Dragon

by PhoenixHolmes



Series: The London Dragon [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Adopted!John, Bad Dreams, Bullying, Car Accident, Dragon!Sherlock - Freeform, F/M, Hobbit References, Human!John, Hurt!John, Mention of Cannibalism, Nightmares, Parent!lock, School exclusion, Sherlock's Past, Sherlock's Violin, TW Acid, TW Brief Mention of drugs, TW Brief mention of suicide, TW Mention of Torture, TW Mention of drowning, Teacher!Sherlock, ill!Sherlock, tw blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 59,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixHolmes/pseuds/PhoenixHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes was a science teacher by day and a fire breathing dragon by night.</p><p>John Watson had been one of his students who had been the first person to discover Sherlock’s secret for several decades. The two had become unlikely friends until John had left school that July, but had opted to return to the sixth form in the September, where Sherlock would remain to be his tutor. The two continued their friendship until one evening John’s parents were killed in a car accident whilst John had been flying around London on the back of the vast dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the asked for sequel to My Teacher: The Dragon  
> Just a warning that tags will change as the story is updated so please, please check the tags when I update!
> 
> Enjoy :)

“John? Is everything okay?” Sherlock asked after John had been absent for a few days whilst his parents’ affairs were set in order and he was passed into the care of a social worker. John looked absolutely exhausted, as though he hadn’t slept for several days, and looked incredibly miserable. At the question, John whimpered, and Sherlock detected sadness on the boy, and kept him back at the end of tutor to talk to him in private.

“John?” he asked. John was looking at his feet, refusing to meet Sherlock’s gaze, which was unlike him. “Look at me, John” Sherlock growled, the dragon’s command washing over John, forcing him to look up sadly. Sherlock was surprised to see grief and great sadness in his face. 

“What’s happened?” he asked urgently, concerned for his favourite student.

“Not really. My... my parents....” John whimpered and bit his lips, tears forming in his eyes. He gulped. “They’re dead”

Sherlock’s eyes widened as he processed this, trying to work out what to say next.

“What happened? Where are you staying? Why did you come in today?” he asked in quick succession and John flinched.

“The police came last night and told me they’d been killed in a car accident. I was taken to stay with some social worker, and I decided I would rather come into college than mope about all day. I think they’re going to put me up for adoption.

“John. Everything is going to be fine, do you understand me? If you ever want to talk at all today, come and find me. Come and find me later on if they let you out. You always know where to find me”

“I... I will, Sir. Thank you” John mumbled, quickly hurrying away. Sherlock leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, and idea forming in his head. He could adopt John. He would have to speak to social services and the school first, but they wouldn’t mind, surely. He would give John a loving home, and that was surely the most important part. 

 

John was hunched by the wall, alone at lunchtime, and Sherlock, who was on duty, sighed quietly and walked towards him. John looked up at his teacher and tried for a small smile. 

“Where are your friends, John?” Sherlock asked, and John shrugged.

“Playing football. I don’t mind, really. It gives me time to think”

“Hmm I suppose so. But it seems to give you time to think about the wrong things, the bad things that have happened recently. Walk with me” Sherlock murmured quietly, and John followed him as he continued his patrol duty. 

“Um... why do I have to follow you?” John asked, slightly confused.

“Because it’s better for you than moping about by the wall. Plus I don’t mind the company”

“Oh... okay then Sir”

“So, John, how have you been finding sixth form?” Sherlock asked, and John shrugged again.

“Not too bad, I suppose”

Sherlock was about to say something else when he tripped over his shoelace, falling to the floor with a thud and a crack. People started laughing, and John had to fight back a smile. 

“Are you alright Sir?” he asked as Sherlock picked himself up, brushing down his coat. John couldn’t help but notice that there was now a crack running through the concrete.

“I’m fine, John, perfectly fine, thank you for asking” Sherlock replied.

“I can see that. I think you hurt the ground more than you hurt yourself” John mumbled, and Sherlock glanced down, flinching at the sight of the crack.

“Hmm yes. Hazard of being indestructible, I’m afraid”

“It’s pretty cool though, being immortal, right?”

“Keep your voice down! And yeah, it’s not that bad”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a surprise when he meets his soon-to-be adoptive father

John’s social worker had told John to get dressed smartly because there was someone coming to visit about adopting him. He dressed in his one suit that he owned. He combed his hair neatly, and took a deep breath. He could hear his social worker, Dave, talking downstairs. 

“John, come here” Dave called up the stairs. John took another deep breath and turned his back on his reflection, heading downstairs slowly. He pushed open the door to the front room, and Dave grabbed his arm, pulling him into the room. He stumbled slightly and got his first glimpse of his new potential parent. He felt his mouth drop open.

“John. Stop gaping” Dave hissed, tugging his arm again. John closed his mouth, and met the man’s eyes. The man smiled at John, flashing his perfect white teeth. For a moment, the man’s eyes flickered to a fiery red with slit pupils. He stepped towards John and held out his hand to John, who shook it, slightly surprised at the flame hot skin.

“Hello John. My name is Mr Holmes” he murmured quietly, and John was on the verge of saying that he knew that already. Mr Holmes looked around at Dave, who smiled up at him. 

“Mr Holmes is going to take you for a walk, ask you some questions and get to know you” he told John, who glanced at his teacher, who winked back with a small smile.

 

“Are you really going to adopt me?” John asked as they walked around the park. 

“Of course I am, if the paperwork goes through. I suggest though that while still in that Dave’s company you keep quiet about the fact you know me”

“Okay. Isn’t this going to cause a problem at college, if you adopt one of your students, Sir?”

“Hmm potentially. But then I am not given towards showing favouritism in my marking”

“You treat me like your favourite student though”

“John. I do not have a favourite student”

“Are you sure you don’t?”

“Perfectly sure. Although I recommend that if you keep asking questions I will reconsider your last chemistry paper grade”

“Sorry, Sir. I just thought... Dave was being nice to me. He’s never normally that nice to me” John muttered.

“Hmm I could tell, so I thought I’d do you a favour. He’s a useless social worker, and he won’t hit you anymore, I made sure of it. If he does, tell me, and I’ll have another chat with him. I’d rather not have my potential adopted son beaten on a regular basis”

“How did you know he had been hitting me? And what did you do to him?” John asked; eyes wide. Sherlock smirked.

“I could tell from the look on your face when he grabbed your arm. I’d already seen the bruises on your arms when you come in to college every day. And I merely had a talk with him”

“Give over. Talking to Dave isn’t going to make him stop hitting me”

“I think you’ll find, John, that a dragon’s voice has a certain quality to it that forces people to obey. Handy talent. I believe you’ve experienced it, where I’ve said something and it’s forced you to do as I say”

John frowned slightly, and thought about the times when his teacher had told him to look up, and he had felt the voice tug at his brain, forcing him to obey. He looked at his teacher now, who smiled, his eyes flickering.

“I suppose I have. Is there any way to resist it?”

“Not really. It would take a very strong person, perhaps even another dragon to be able to resist my voice. Anyway, come on, John, we’d better get you back, or Dave is going to think I’ve kidnapped you”

 

Dave stormed out and grabbed John’s wrist angrily the moment he walked in, not noticing that Sherlock was still there.

“What took you so long?” he hissed at John, shaking him violently. Sherlock growled under his breath and clapped his hand on Dave’s shoulder.

“For a social worker, you aren’t very caring” he murmured quietly, and Dave released John in surprise, who started massaging his bruised arm. 

“I didn’t mean to, but he’s so annoying” Dave whined. Sherlock growled quietly.

“Kneel” he hissed, and when Dave failed to obey, he pressed his hand down on his shoulder. “I said kneel” he snarled, forcing the man to his knees, gasping. Dave looked up, scared, at Sherlock, who stared down at him without pity.

“You do not harm John Watson again, is that understood?” Sherlock growled, and John felt the tug the voice had on him, although he wasn’t the intended target.

“Yes! Yes... yes” Dave mumbled, staring at the teacher, whose grip on his shoulder tightened again.

“Do you understand that if I see anymore bruises on John, I will know and I will come visit you again. And you won’t like it when I do pay another visit. Is that clear?”

“Yes... master”

“I am not your master. Do not call me that again” Sherlock growled, shoving Dave away.

“Sorry, Sir” Dave mumbled instead, and Sherlock stepped back towards John, who was watching him carefully. John wasn’t surprised to see the bright red, slit pupil eyes. He was surprised; however, when Sherlock took hold of his arms gently, crouching down to look him in the eye.

“If he hurts you again, tell me”

“Yes Sir”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John arrives in his new home

The adoption went through, and a few days later John was already packed and waiting that evening, and jumped slightly when he heard the doorbell. He ran down the stairs and opened the door, grinning when he saw Sherlock. Dave emerged from the front room, and flinched when he saw Sherlock, kneeling before him and kissing his hand.

“I didn’t harm him, Sir, please don’t hurt me” he mumbled. Sherlock looked down at him with disgust.

“Get up” he commanded, and Dave scrambled to obey. He even helped carry John’s suitcase out to the waiting taxi.

 

“221b... Baker Street?” he read aloud, and Sherlock nodded as he unlocked the door.

“Your new home” he replied, leading the way inside. An elderly woman came out of the downstairs flat.

“Hello there. I heard we were getting a new resident” she smiled warmly at John, who smiled back nervously.

“I’m John” he mumbled.

“Mrs Hudson, the landlady” she replied, and Sherlock started carrying John’s case upstairs, leaving John no choice but to follow. The flat was fairly untidy, with books and papers strewn across the room. John looked around with interest.

“John! Your room is up here” Sherlock called from the stairs, and John hurried after him up the stairs to the spare room. Sherlock opened the door and deposited the case inside.

“Right, this is now your room. You can stick up posters, whatever. Don’t mind. I can get someone in to paint if you don’t like the colour. This is your space, do what you like, I don’t care. Come downstairs in a few minutes and we can have a proper talk about rules and stuff” he turned, leaving John to look around his new room. It was fairly empty, although it held a freshly made double bed, a built in wardrobe and there was a desk by the window. The walls were painted light blue, and the carpet was a darker shade of blue, which John decided he liked. He looked around again before heading downstairs, deciding that he could unpack later. He wandered into the front room, and saw Sherlock sat in his armchair. Sherlock smiled at him and gestured for him to take a seat. 

“Right then, John. First things first. Up until this point you have called me ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr Holmes’ due to the fact I am your teacher. Whilst I am still your teacher, you do not have to call me that whilst at home. My name is Sherlock, and you can call me that, just don’t get confused as at college I am still Mr Holmes”

“Sherlock Holmes... okay. I always wondered what the ‘S’ stood for. I thought maybe it was Stephen or something. Or Samuel” John replied, and Sherlock laughed.

“My parents never chose ordinary sounding names like that. Technically though, my full name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes, but I never go by the name William. I prefer the name Sherlock, it sets me apart, makes me seem different”

“You are different, you turn into a dragon”

“You get my point. Anyway, moving on”

“Yes, sorry”

“As you are aware, I need to leave the flat in the evenings and transform. I recommend, however, that due to the fact you are still in college we limit the amount of times that you accompany me”

“Fair enough. Maybe at weekends or something?”

“My thoughts precisely. You are not under a strict curfew, although if you do go out you must be back by eleven, merely for the fact I do not want to have to trek across London looking for you. Is that fair?”

“Yes Sir” John replied, automatically slipping into old habits.

“Hmm. I don’t believe there was much else... You can watch TV, play games, whatever you want, although as a teacher I still recommend keeping up with homework”

“I understand. I usually try and do my homework before anything else in the evenings” 

“Good. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the flat” Sherlock stood, and John followed down a small hallway. He stopped outside one of the doors.

“This is my room. I will respect your privacy in the fact I will not enter your room uninvited, and I expect you to extend the same courtesy towards me” he murmured.

“Fine. To be honest, I’m not sure I would want to go inside my teacher’s bedroom” John replied, and Sherlock laughed.

“Understandable. Okay, this is the bathroom, which I am sure you are aware” Sherlock gestured to another door before striding back through the living room.

“Kitchen. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of food for you. I can’t cook much myself, but I can have a go” Sherlock walked across the kitchen and opened the fridge. John grimaced at the sight of several packets of meat and steaks on the bottom shelf. Sherlock noticed John’s expression and smirked. 

“As you are probably already aware, I require high amounts of protein in my diet. The bottom shelf is mine, but you can use the rest of the fridge. Just a warning, I do eat the meat raw, and hardly ever have anything else due to my dietary requirements. I thought I should mention it in case you freak out or get squeamish about it. Please do not cook any of the meat without my permission”

“Not likely to happen. I don’t want you to go crazy and eat me instead” John replied, still looking at the raw steaks. Sherlock laughed.

“Again, that is not likely to happen” Sherlock chuckled, striding back into the living room and flopping in his chair.

“One more thing, really. I’m known to play the violin when I’m bored or thinking, does that bother you?” 

“Um... I don’t think it would be a problem... I haven’t really heard someone play the violin before” John muttered, and Sherlock smirked.

“You’ll hear it at some point. Any questions?” Sherlock asked, and John shook his head.

“Not really” John replied, and Sherlock smiled.

“Welcome to my family, John”

 

It took John a couple of hours that evening to unpack. He was hanging his clothes up in the wardrobe when there was a tap on the door, and Sherlock came in.

“I’m going now. I’ll probably not be back until around midnight, so feel free to go to bed, there’s no need to wait up” he murmured, and John nodded.

“Okay. See you tomorrow” he smiled, and Sherlock smiled back, nodding once as he left again, shutting the door. John listened, hearing the front door shut downstairs. He looked around with a sigh, and finished packing his clothes away. He tiptoed out into the living room, although he didn’t know why he was sneaking about. Mrs Hudson wouldn’t mind what he did, she was only the landlady. He sighed and switched on the TV, skimming through the channels. He ended up watching the cartoon channel, which was something he hadn’t done for years. He found himself enjoying the cartoons that had brightened his childhood. He hadn’t been allowed to watch TV at Dave’s house, and he found the time passed quickly when he was alone, and before he knew it his head was drooping, so he switched off the TV and got ready for bed. It was nearly ten o’clock, but he remembered what Sherlock had said about not being back until midnight, so he climbed into his new double bed and settled his head against the pillows. Now he was in bed, he found it difficult to sleep, and stared at the ceiling, listening to the cars driving past outside. He rolled over and looked at the desk, where he had set out some photos of his parents, who were smiling at him. 

“Well, I’ve been adopted. I think I’ll be happy here. Mr Holmes is nice. I still miss you though” he murmured. “Goodnight” he added, closing his eyes and drifting into a state of half sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? I'm spoiling you ;)  
> As always, comments/kudos are much appreciated


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's first weekend in his new home

The next morning, John dithered over whether to get dressed before going downstairs. He was sure that his new parent wouldn’t mind as it was a Saturday. He pulled on his black dressing gown and headed downstairs. Sherlock wandered out of the kitchen wearing nothing apart from some pyjama bottoms. John looked away from his teacher’s muscular chest quickly, blushing, but of course Sherlock noticed straight away the blush on the boy’s cheeks.

“Good morning John. Is everything alright?” he asked, flopping in his chair. John took the teeniest of glimpses back at his adoptive father, before looking away again. 

“Um...” he mumbled, and Sherlock stood again, approaching the boy cautiously.

“What is it, John?” he asked quietly and John flinched, avoiding his gaze. “Tell me”

The dragon’s deep voice was no more than a quiet purr, but John still felt himself being forced to answer.

“I... I didn’t expect to see my teacher topless” he mumbled, and Sherlock stepped back, chuckling.

“My apologies, John. I don’t get cold, you see, quite the opposite. I’m usually overheating, especially at night after my transformation. I’ll go and put something on, would that make you more comfortable?” he asked, and John nodded. Sherlock, still chuckling quietly, headed back to his room and emerged a minute later sporting an old t-shirt and blue silk dressing gown.

“Better?” he asked, and John nodded again, more relaxed now he could no longer see his teacher’s muscular torso. He sat down on the sofa before realising he didn’t know what to do with himself. Sherlock had picked up his mobile phone and was twiddling with it, tapping the touch screen a few times. 

“That’s a point, John, what’s your mobile number?” he asked without looking up. John automatically reeled off the number, and Sherlock typed it into his phone.

“Thank you. Just in case something happens and I need to contact you” Sherlock replied. He glanced at the clock and sighed. “I’ll be back in a minute” he added, rising from his chair fluidly and heading towards his bedroom. Whilst he was gone, John ran back to his room and fetched his clunky old mobile and a book, before heading back to the living room. He started reading, and a moment later Sherlock returned and handed John a slip of paper, which he opened cautiously. Written at the top in neat cursive was Sherlock’s name, followed by an email address, a mobile number and the landline. John started punching the buttons on his old mobile, entering the details, aware that Sherlock was watching him. When he was done, he looked up at him. Sherlock frowned, and plucked the phone from John’s hand, turning it over and examining it.

“Nokia 3200. An old model, out of date. Second hand” he frowned slightly, tossing the phone back to John who caught it awkwardly. “I suppose it explains why you hardly have it out at college” he added. John blushed.

“Yeah, I know. It was my dad’s old one” he mumbled quietly, and Sherlock gave him a sympathetic look.

“Do you want any breakfast, John?” he asked, and John nodded slightly. “Come on then” Sherlock strode into the kitchen. A moment later and John stood up, and headed into the kitchen after him. He glanced around briefly, and placed two slices of bread into the toaster, watching Sherlock open the fridge, and peer over the contents. He watched, fascinated, as Sherlock pulled out a plate, handed it to John for his toast before pulling out a second plate and going back to the fridge. 

“Knives are in the drawer to your left and the butter’s on the table” he informed John, half concealed by the fridge door. John turned away and started buttering his toast, and when he turned around saw Sherlock sat at the table, tearing into a raw steak with his teeth. He sat down opposite, and bit into his toast, fascinated with watching the part time dragon eat. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

“Problem?” he asked, and John shook his head, dropping his gaze to his toast, blushing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare...” he muttered, and heard Sherlock laugh quietly.

“It’s fine. This is all new to you, I suppose” he grinned and John nodded, still looking at his toast. “You’ve got questions” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. John bit his lip and nodded.

“Fire away then” Sherlock muttered, still chewing his steak.

“Um... do you eat anything other than raw steak?” John asked, finally looking up. Sherlock chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Hmm... I can eat other things, but I mainly require protein and meat. But occasionally I do enjoy other stuff” he replied.

“Do you like chocolate?” John asked, and frowned slightly, unsure of where the question had come from. Sherlock laughed again.

“Sure, I like chocolate and sweets. I don’t have loads though, mainly because it does nothing for me and gives me no energy whatsoever”

“What are you doing today?” John asked, and Sherlock frowned slightly.

“Is that it on questions regarding my diet? Fine. I don’t know, actually. Probably lesson plans and stuff. You can do what you like, I don’t mind; just don’t disturb me whilst I am working”

“I might have more diet questions later on, I just can’t think of any right now. And okay. I might do some homework. I’ve got a load of maths to get through”

“I can help if you like”

“Thanks, but I’ll attempt it on my own first” John replied, and Sherlock smiled, licking the blood from the steak off his hands.

“That’s the spirit. I’m surprised you haven’t started asking me what’s on the next chemistry paper”

“But that would be cheating. I don’t like cheating”

“Me neither. I don’t like cheats or liars, myself. Anyway, if there’s no more questions, I should probably get started” Sherlock stood and swept from the room after dumping the bloodstained plate in the sink with a load of other dirty items. John was about to add his own plate and knife to the pile, when he realised that he should probably wash up. He hadn’t been asked to, but he didn’t mind either way. He found the washing up bowl, a cloth and some washing up liquid, and turned on the tap, filling the bowl. He started scrubbing at the plates and mugs, and discovered it took more effort to remove the bloodstains from the plates than he had originally thought. He finished washing them, and started drying them with a tea towel and putting them away, remembering which cupboard the plates went in and where the mugs went. He was just putting away the cutlery when the kitchen door opened, and Sherlock looked in. 

“I could smell washing up liquid. You didn’t have to do the washing up” he sighed and John shrugged.

“I don’t mind” he mumbled, and Sherlock smiled.

“Thank you” he murmured quietly, before leaving again. After finishing the washing up, John headed back through the front room. He spotted Sherlock, typing away on his laptop at the desk, text books and notes strewn around him. He ignored John, who remembered the warning about not disturbing him whilst working, so John headed up to his room quietly. He sat down at the desk and pulled his maths homework towards him, opening his text book, and flicking through it. He started working through the questions, checking his answers several times. He was so engrossed in what he was doing, hunched over the paper, that he didn’t hear the tap on the door or hear it open.

“John?”

John jumped, spinning round in surprise. Sherlock was stood in the doorway, watching him.

“Sorry, did I make you jump? I tend to move quietly” Sherlock mumbled apologetically, and John shook his head.

“It’s okay, I’m fine. Is something wrong?” he asked, and Sherlock shook his head.

“Not really. I was just making sure you were okay. Also, I was going to nip out to the shop. Did you want anything for lunch?” he asked.

“Um... I don’t know” John mumbled, afraid to ask.

“Come on, I don’t mind. What do you want?” Sherlock asked, and John sighed.

“Can I have a jam sandwich?” he asked quietly.

“Sure. What jam do you like?”

“Strawberry, please”

“Sure thing. I’ll be back soon, maybe about half an hour” Sherlock replied.

“Okay then”

Sherlock left the room, and a few minutes later John heard the front door shut. He sighed, and continued with his homework, resolving to listen out for Sherlock’s return. He kept glancing at the clock. Half an hour later, he’d only done two more questions, and hadn’t heard anything. He sighed, and started working on the final question. He was about to write down the answer when he heard the front door open. He wrote down the answer quickly as he heard Sherlock tap on his door.

“John? I’m back, do you want lunch?” Sherlock’s voice asked, slightly muffled by the door. John stood up and crossed the room and opened the door to see his adoptive father stood there.

“Sure” he smiled, and Sherlock returned the smile warmly, heading back downstairs. John noticed he did move quietly, making John’s footsteps on the stairs seem really loud. He started making his jam sandwich with the new jar of jam whilst Sherlock put away the other groceries and rooted around the bottom shelf of the fridge. John sat down, and was joined a moment later by Sherlock, who had wedged a small piece of steak in between two slices of bread, making a slightly sickening looking sandwich. He arched an eyebrow as he bit into it.

“You’re staring at me again”

“Sorry” John muttered, looking down at his own sandwich.

“Do I put you off your food?”

“Not really. I’m not that squeamish. It’s just a bit strange, that’s all” John replied, and Sherlock laughed.

“I guess so. I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. It’s part of who you are”

“Thank you for understanding, John”

 

The next morning, John wandered downstairs to find the flat empty. There was a note on the side written in elegant cursive.

John,   
I’ve just nipped out shopping. I forgot some stuff yesterday.  
I’ll be back soon, don’t panic.  
SH

John read the note and sighed. He had finished his homework and now had nothing to do. He wandered around the flat before heading back to his room. He started reading a book, and a few minutes later heard the front door open. 

“John? Could you come here?” Sherlock called. John put the book down and headed downstairs.

“How did you know I was awake?” he asked, and Sherlock pointed to the note.

“The note had moved. Also, I could detect your scent in the room” he replied. John sighed.

“Is something wrong? Am I in trouble?” he asked. Sherlock looked surprised, and shook his head.

“What? No, no. I have something for you” he grinned, beckoning John closer. John approached cautiously, and Sherlock handed him a wrapped box. He took it and pulled off the wrapping to reveal a new smart phone. He stared at the box in shock, and up at Sherlock, who smiled.

“Just to say welcome, if you like I can help set it up and transfer your contacts and...” he was cut off by John suddenly wrapping his arms around him and hugging him. He smiled, and put his arms around John gently, hugging him against him. A moment later and John broke away, blushing.

“Sorry... Sherlock...” he mumbled. Sherlock felt his smile widen because it was the first time he had heard John say his name. 

“No need to apologise, John, it’s quite alright” he replied. John hugged him again. 

“Thank you so much for adopting me” he whispered. 

“Not a problem, John. Glad to have you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos/comments so far it is much appreciated


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Sherlock's back story and a visit from his (annoying) older brother....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check the tags when I update

At the end of the day on Monday, John went to his tutor room and tapped on the door after seeing there was no class inside. 

“Come in” his adoptive father called, and he pushed open the door. Sherlock was putting the chairs up on the desks, and looked around to see who had come in. “Hi John. Just let me put the rest of the chairs up, I’m almost done” he added. John quickly helped with the last of the chairs, and Sherlock shut down his laptop, putting it in its case and picking up a box of books.

“Right then. Ready?” he asked, and John nodded.

“Sure. Want a hand with that?” John asked, gesturing to the box of books. Sherlock shrugged.

“I don’t mind” he replied. John smiled and took the box and left the room, leaving a surprised Sherlock to turn off the lights and shut the door.

“Did you have a good day?” Sherlock asked John as they walked home. John nodded.

“Sure. Not too bad. I got an A on my psychology mid unit test”

“Well done”

“Thanks. Did you have a good day, Sir? I mean Sherlock”

“It was good, thanks for asking. Still having trouble remembering when to call me Sir and when to call me Sherlock though, I see”

“Well, I only found out your name was Sherlock three days ago”

“Hmm that’s true. Never mind”

“Does it bother you?” John asked.

“Does what bother me?”

“That you adopted one of your students”

“Why should it? It doesn’t make much of a difference, really”

“I suppose. It’s weird living with one of my teachers though” John mumbled, and Sherlock laughed.

“I bet. I think I frightened you when you came in and I had no shirt on”

“Mentally scarred from that, I am. Not something I can forget in a hurry”

“Glad I made an impression”

“You made an impression the first time I watched you turn into a dragon”

“Thank you, John”

 

John was bleeding. He had caught his hand on a shard of glass that he had found on the table. He swore under his breath, clutching his bleeding hand, unsure what to do. The door flew open and Sherlock stood framed in the doorway, his nostrils flaring at the smell of the blood. His gaze latched onto John, and he darted across the room. John tried to move away, but Sherlock caught his wrist, pulling his hand closer to him to examine it. John whimpered as he watched Sherlock’s eyes flicker bright red, the slit pupils widening. He leaned close and gently licked up a small droplet of blood, causing John to shudder. He was half expecting Sherlock to bite his hand off. Instead, his adoptive father continued to lick the blood, cleaning the wound.

“What are you doing?” John asked, and the man growled in annoyance, continuing to clean the wound, his tongue running along the cut carefully. Sherlock leaned back, sitting on his feet, licking his lips.

“That should do it” he muttered, still licking his lips. John stared at the cut in wonder. He had thought it might need stitches, but now it was healing rapidly, the cut closing. John looked from his hand up to Sherlock, who ran his tongue along his lips again.

“Your blood tastes nice” he murmured quietly, and John flinched.

“What did you do?” he asked, and Sherlock smirked.

“Cleaned your wound. My saliva has healing properties as well. I don’t know why. It just does”

“Thank you, anyway”

“You’re welcome, John. Always happy to help”

“I thought you were going to bite my hand off”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because your eyes changed and you started licking the blood, like some animal cleaning his food”

“I’m sorry. I would never harm you, John, I hope you know that”

“I suppose I do. I trust you”

“Good to hear. Most people don’t trust me much after they find out I’m an immortal dragon. You know, I was lucky to still have my job this year. I was on a trial basis last year, and it was only due to the fact the pupils I taught got good results that I was allowed to stay. That’s why they gave me A level classes as well”

“I think you’re a very good teacher”

“Thank you, John, but you’re rather biased”

“Am not. I thought you were a good teacher even before I found out about the dragon thing”

“Thank you John, your faith in me is extremely uplifting. Now, shall we get up off the floor? It’s not exactly built for comfort”

They both stood and headed into the front room. John hugged Sherlock around the middle, and the surprised teacher patted his back. 

“Thank you for being so nice to me” John mumbled, and Sherlock sighed.

“John, there is no need to keep thanking me. I adopted you because I thought it would make you happy, and I admire how smart and brave you are for someone who has just lost both his parents” he replied as John released him and they sat down on the sofa.

“...Can I ask you something?” John asked.

“You just did. You can ask me something else as well though”

“...What was it like when your parents died?” John asked quietly. Sherlock breathed in slightly sharply.

“It wasn’t pleasant. I told you they were like me and transformed as well, yes? My mother turned into this really lovely green and blue bird. My father turned into a griffin. You know, half bird, half lion. He was pretty big, although I over shadowed him by quite a lot. However, they were captured by some scientists who wanted to experiment on them. We all were, my parents, myself and my brother. They tied us down, restrained us when we changed. I was locked in a separate room, a huge space big enough to accommodate my massive size. They tied my feet and hands down, and wore fire proof suits when they came to observe me. When in human form the shackles were removed because they were too big for a human frame. One day, when we were in human form, there was a fire, and I heard the alarm. I smashed my way out of the door to find the corridor full of flames. My brother ran towards me, and we went to rescue our parents. Only the heat and smoke was too much for them, and they were pretty much dead when we found them. I held my mother as she died in my arms, and my brother held my father. We couldn’t leave them, so we carried them outside, and ran away into hiding. The only reason we survived is because we’re fire proof” Sherlock sighed quietly, moving back his shirt sleeves and showing John the thin scars around his wrists.

“They tortured us because of what we were, me more so than others, because I was considered the greatest threat”

John stared at the scarred wrists, and brushed his fingers against the pale scars lightly. His adoptive father didn’t move, instead watching John’s face and trying to judge his reaction.

“We had a proper funeral for them, of course. I’ll take you to see them one day. It still took me a solid decade to stop tracking down the escaped scientists. It’s the only time I’ve ever wanted to kill anyone. I never did, though. Mycroft helped me to stop tracking them, and stuck me in university to get my degree”

“Mycroft?” John asked, the unfamiliar name causing him to frown.

“My brother. Mycroft Holmes. He turns into a phoenix, if you were wondering”

“Oh. I just wondered if the pain goes away” John muttered, and Sherlock sighed, running his hands through his curly hair.

“Some days I feel as though I’m still not over it. Other days I feel fine. It fluctuates. But I know that no matter how long I live, I won’t fully get over it or forget it. I doubt you will either. But it does get easier, after awhile”

John sniffed, and turned and buried his face in his adopted father’s shirt. Sherlock put his arms around him, holding his adoptive son as he cried.

“John, it’s okay, I’ve got you” Sherlock whispered into John’s sandy blonde hair. John shifted slightly, and straightened up. He looked at his adoptive father, ashamed to be crying like this, but Sherlock didn’t mind. He looked concerned and anxious for John, which was something a father should be.

“I’m sorry, father, I didn’t mean to cry like that, I made your shirt wet, I’m sorry” he mumbled. 

Sherlock’s eyes widened, and filled with tears. Father. He had called him Father.

“Bother my bloody shirt. Come here” he pulled John closer, hugging him tight against him. 

 

After taking John for a night flight around London, Sherlock personally went and put him to bed.

“What are you doing?” John asked as Sherlock tucked the duvet around him.

“Putting you to bed, why?”

“... Nobody’s put me to bed for a long time”

“I don’t have to; I can go if you like...” Sherlock stepped back and moved towards the door.

“No, stay, please” John whimpered, and Sherlock smiled, crossing back to the bed and sitting down on the edge.

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked, concerned. John shook his head.

“Nothing”

“Are you sure? Are you alright now?” Sherlock asked, and John nodded.

“I’m alright. My father turns into a dragon every night, but it’s fine. I love it. You’re different, and kind, and caring, and gentle, which is kind of the opposite of what a dragon is meant to be. You helped me overcome my fear of heights, and I no longer fear you. The only thing I’m scared of is that something happens and I don’t get to see you again”

Sherlock’s eyes filled with tears again, and his voice shook slightly when he spoke. Was this what it was like to feel human emotions?

“I did not want to become a dragon, but you can’t change the genes that you’re born with. I thought I was fated to become a monstrous dragon every night until I died. However, then I met you, and you helped me to enjoy my nightly transformations, because I had someone to share it with. And now I’ve adopted you, and you now view me as a father figure, and that means more to me than I can ever say. I will do my very best to ensure we are not separated, John. On that you have my word”

 

The next weekend, Sherlock’s eyes flew open suddenly, his nostrils flaring as he picked up a familiar scent in the front room. He growled as he pulled on some trousers and a white shirt and his blue dressing gown before storming out of the room.

“What do you think you are doing here, brother mine?” he growled. His brother, Mycroft stood, smiling slightly.

“I thought I’d pop by and check up on you, Sherlock. See how being a father suited you. Where’s your adopted son?” he asked.

“Still in bed. Leave him alone” Sherlock hissed.

“No need to be hostile. I merely wanted to see if it was true that you were a father and had adopted a human boy”

“As far as I remember, there were no rules against adopting humans”

“Indeed there aren’t. However, if this ends... badly, there will be”

“It won’t end badly” Sherlock murmured quietly. 

“Are you certain of that, brother mine?”

“Of course I’m certain” Sherlock snapped, hearing the creak on the stairs that showed his adopted son was awake. He smiled at John when he walked in.

“Morning... oh, who are you?” John asked, looking at Mycroft, who turned to him with a smile.

“John, this is my brother, Mycroft. This is John Watson, my adopted son” Sherlock introduced. Mycroft shook John’s hand.

“A pleasure to meet you John. Sherlock never mentioned you were immortal”

“What? I’m not immortal, I can’t be” John spluttered.

“On the contrary, young John, it seems that my brother has made you immortal by way of that cut on your left hand”

John looked at his hand, looking at the scar that was the only reminder of the cut he had received recently. He looked up at Sherlock, remembering what had happened, and was surprised to see his adopted father’s eyes slide away from him. John sank into a chair, shocked.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sherlock growled quietly. His brother didn’t answer and Sherlock grabbed him, shaking him. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” he shouted angrily, his eyes flickering red, the slit pupils widening. Mycroft pushed him away.

“Mind your temper, brother mine. You didn’t know your... saliva had special properties?”

“I knew it healed! I didn’t know it did this! If I had known, I wouldn’t have done it, I would have taken him to hospital” Sherlock muttered, kneeling down in front of John and examining his hand.

“I’m so sorry, John” he murmured.

“What’s happened, father?” John asked. 

“Father? I doubt you’ll want to call him that after what he’s done to you” Mycroft muttered, causing Sherlock to growl in annoyance.

“What happened?” John asked again, Sherlock sighed.

“You remember when you cut yourself, and I... cleaned it?” he asked, and John nodded.

“You said your saliva had healing properties”

“It does. But someone forgot to mention that mixing it into someone’s bloodstream would make them immortal” Sherlock glared venomously at his brother, who smirked.

“I didn’t forget. I thought you knew”

“You knew I didn’t”

“So... does that mean...”

“Yes, John. I have managed to make you immortal, frozen forever at seventeen” Sherlock looked away, tears in his eyes, repelled at who he was and what he had done to John.

“Leave us now, brother?” he asked quietly, and Mycroft took his cue and left quickly. Sherlock curled himself into a ball on the sofa in the corner, his face buried in his trousers, rocking backwards and forwards slightly. 

“I’m such a horrible parent” he mumbled, and John edged closer beside him, and touched his shoulder.

“Father? Sherlock?” he asked tentatively. Sherlock made a whimpering noise and tried to move away, but John caught his sleeve. He had never seen his teacher/father/dragon look so vulnerable.

“Sherlock, you aren’t a bad parent. I know you didn’t mean it, and you were just trying to look after me. I forgive you. I was worried about the fact I would one day grow old and die whilst you stayed young. Now I don’t have to worry. I mean, sure, I’m stuck as a seventeen year old, but I’m hoping that means I get to stay with you. Because you, Sherlock, are my father now”

Sherlock looked up and met John’s gaze, his eyes brimming with tears still.

“You forgive me?” he asked quietly. John nodded.

“Of course I forgive you, you great big dragon” he replied, and Sherlock sat up, uncurling his legs. He opened his arms and hugged John.

“Thank you, John. I... hadn’t let myself think about you growing old. If I’d had my way, I would have found a way to make you immortal when you were the same age as me, as a companion perhaps. Now I don’t have to. And of course you can stay with me for as long as you like, John, you’re always welcome”

“Thank you, father”

“Come here” Sherlock hugged his adopted son with a sigh.

“However, whilst you are no longer ageing, it doesn’t mean you are indestructible like me. I’ll find a way to make you indestructible. Otherwise you can still die”

“...Okay. Would it hurt?”

“Doubt it. I have to find a way first though. I don’t want to lose you”

“I don’t want to lose you either, father”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to update this for you all every day but I've just started work so if I do forget to update then I am very sorry
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are much appreciated :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's John's first birthday with his new father...

“Oh, John, I can’t walk home with you today, I have a staff meeting after school. Will you be alright walking?” Sherlock asked one morning, and John nodded.

“Sure, that’s fine” he mumbled, watching his father chew on his breakfast steak.

“Good, good. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you later”

“You don’t have to, it’s fine, I don’t mind”

“If you’re sure”

“Of course I’m sure. I won’t get lost”

 

However, when it came to the end of the day, John wished he could have walked home with his adoptive father, because he was feeling absolutely miserable. He had lost his homework diary and couldn’t remember what homework he had, and worst of all was the fact his English essay had been stolen and had been replaced with ten pages of the words ‘I hate Mr Holmes’ written on them. He had then got in trouble for not handing his homework in, and he had to make sure it was handed in tomorrow, so he was now looking at an evening he would have spent relaxing working on an essay that had taken him three days to complete. When he reached the flat, he was too miserable to do anything, so he flopped on his bed, turning to face his desk and his parents’ photos. He was still like that when Sherlock came home an hour and a half later. Sherlock headed upstairs and knocked on John’s door, opening it and peering inside. 

“John?” he asked, moving into the room and perching himself on the edge of the bed. He reached out and touched John’s shoulder.

“John, look at me and tell me what’s wrong” he purred. John shuddered as the voice, quiet yet commanding, washed over him. He sat up and turned to face his father.

“I’ve lost my diary and can’t remember what homework I have, and someone stole my English essay and replaced it” he muttered and Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll help you look for the diary tomorrow and explain to your teachers. What did they replace the essay with?” he asked. John pulled the folder out of his bag and handed it to Sherlock sadly, who took the sheets carefully, flicking through them and seeing the legend ‘I hate Mr Holmes’ scrawled several times. He frowned, bringing the sheet of paper up to his face. He sniffed, running his nose across the sheet.

“Well, it’s easy enough to pick up the vandal’s scent. I’ll help you sort this out, John, don’t worry”

“But... but I have to hand in the essay tomorrow and I can’t remember any of it”

“Hmm who’s your teacher?” 

“Miss Reeves”

“I’ll talk to her, get you an extension on the essay, is that okay?”

“Thank you, father”

“No problem, John”

 

“Come on, John, we have to go soon if I’m going to talk to your teacher this morning” he murmured, and John nodded, scooping up the last of his cereal and putting the bowl in the sink before heading upstairs to get dressed. He picked up his bag, and pulled it onto his back, heading back downstairs as Sherlock emerged from his room, fastening the buttons on his jacket. He never wore a tie, and yet always managed to look smart. He pulled on his coat and tied his blue scarf around his neck. He touched John’s shoulder.

“Don’t look so worried! Everything is going to be fine” he smiled reassuringly, and John flinched slightly.

“What if one day your voice doesn’t convince people anymore, though? What if people find a way to resist it?” he asked, and Sherlock laughed loudly as he picked up his laptop.

“Oh, John. My kind, shape shifters, have been on Earth for thousands of years. There have been hundreds of half dragons like me. If humanity hasn’t managed to resist a dragon by now, they probably never will” he replied as they left the flat.

“What happened to the others?” John asked, curious. Sherlock sighed.

“Dragons have always been feared, and they found a way to kill us. A fatal stab wound to the dragon’s heart will kill it”

“Aren’t you worried someone will try and stab you?”

“We evolved, John, much like you humans did. My scales are thick and impregnable, and it would be very difficult to kill me. I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to die”

“Wow...” John murmured as they arrived at the school. 

“Come on then, we’ll go talk to your teacher” Sherlock smiled, his eyes flickering briefly. John was so used to it now he hardly noticed. They headed up to the English classroom, and Sherlock tapped on the door, opening it and striding inside with John trailing behind him.

“Mr Holmes? Bit lost, are you?” Miss Reeves remarked, and Sherlock sighed.

“No, I’m not lost. I’m here to talk to you about John’s essay”

“Ah yes. Do you have it now, John?” she asked. John shook his head reluctantly, looking at his shoes.

“No miss. Someone stole it” he mumbled. 

“I don’t believe that” she scoffed. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, but you should” he purred quietly.

“I should?” Miss Reeves asked, sounding confused.

“Yes, you should. Because John Watson is not a liar”

“John... is not a liar?” she repeated uncertainly.

“No. He did complete his essay, in fact, I saw him do it. He brought it with him yesterday to hand in, but had it stolen during break, and replaced with something else. Show her, John”

John scrambled to pull the file from his bag, and he handed it to his English teacher. She took it and opened it, her eyes scanning the ten pages bearing ‘I hate Mr Holmes’ in silence.

“John could have written this” she decided eventually, handing back the file. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and a low growl rumbled through his chest.

“John is my adopted son. I do not think he is likely to have written that. It is in different handwriting as well” he murmured quietly. 

“I think John is merely using the fact he lives with you to his advantage in order to get what he wants”

“Is that what you think, is it? Hmm, interesting” Sherlock mused. He stepped closer, looking down at the other teacher.

“Now. John did not write those lines. You will give him a few more days, say, until Friday, to complete the essay”

“I can’t do that, Mr Holmes”

“Of course you can. And you will give him an extension” Sherlock purred quietly. John watched anxiously, and saw his teacher slump in defeat. She handed back the file.

“Very well. You have until Friday’s lesson to complete the essay, John” she mumbled, and Sherlock smiled.

“Good. Have a good day” he swept from the room, followed by John. Once they were in the tutor room, John quickly hugged Sherlock.

“Thanks, father” he murmured, pulling back. Sherlock smiled slightly.

“What say we burn that replacement essay tonight?” he asked, and John nodded eagerly. He was in awe of his father’s flame breathing abilities. Sherlock laughed, and took the file. 

“I’ll look after this. Oh, I almost forgot. I was going to look for your planner, wasn’t I?” he asked under his breath, mostly talking to himself. He swept from the room, and John followed, uncertain of what else to do. Sherlock hummed as he wandered along, stopping outside a maths classroom. He breathed in again, and John wondered if he was following some kind of scent. Evidently yes as Sherlock opened the door and strode inside. The room was empty, and he picked up the planner from where it had been left on the desk and handed it to John.

“There you go. Be careful next time”

“Thank you” John murmured.

“Always happy to help, John, you know that”

 

John’s birthday was approaching. It was the first birthday without his parents, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t know if his new parent would remember. Even if he didn’t, he guessed it didn’t matter since he was no longer ageing.

John was woken up on his birthday morning by his adoptive father yanking open the curtains. He sat up groggily as Sherlock started to sing.

“Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I’ve got a beautiful feeling, everything’s going your way” he sang, his voice loud and off key. John blinked, confused, as his adopted father stepped towards him and lifted him from the bed and set him on his feet.

“What...” John mumbled, still half asleep.

“Happy birthday, John!” Sherlock exclaimed loudly, pulling John into a tight hug.

“What... um... yes, thank you” John muttered.

“Come on, come on! Fun filled day ahead!”

“What, why?” John asked.

“It’s a Saturday, and it’s your birthday! Even though you stopped ageing a month ago, you’re sort of officially eighteen!”

“That means I am an adult and can easily leave”

“But you’re not going to do that, are you, John?” Sherlock purred quietly, eyes shining.

“Hmm no” John replied. “Wait a minute...”

“Come on, I’ll go and make breakfast!” he grinned widely, striding from the room. John shook his head in wonder and got dressed. He knew that Sherlock’s dragon voice had tricked him into saying he wouldn’t leave, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to leave anyway. He headed downstairs to find Sherlock muttering to himself as he fiddled with the toaster. 

“I don’t think I’ve used this that much” he muttered. John laughed.

“What, you never have steak on toast?” he asked teasingly.

“Don’t make fun”

“Sorry”

 

After John finished his toast, Sherlock disappeared briefly, and came back carrying a chocolate cake, neatly iced with the words ‘Happy Birthday John’ in swirly letters. Sherlock set it down in front of John, and breathed some flames over the candles to light them, before starting to sing happy birthday. John laughed, and after Sherlock finished singing, closed his eyes and made a wish as he blew out the candles.

He wished he could stay with his new father forever.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is saved by the London Dragon

When John was walking home from his friend’s house one evening, someone grabbed him and pushed him against the wall before feeling in his pockets for his wallet. 

“Come on, lad, wallet, and phone, anything you’ve got” a voice sneered. 

“Okay, okay” John mumbled. He knew fighting back was useless, so he let the stranger take his phone and wallet. There was a rush of air down the alley, and a soft thud. John smiled to himself, knowing immediately who had arrived.

“Let him go”

John’s attacker whirled around in surprise, and screamed quietly at the sight of the dragon’s head inches from his own.

“Give him his things back” the dragon commanded, and the man hurriedly handed back the wallet and phone. The dragon growled.

“You leave this boy alone, do you understand?”

“Yes! Yes, alright... I’m sorry... I... yes” the man mumbled, hurrying away quickly. The dragon watched him go, still growling quietly. He rested his head beside John.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

John shook his head, stepping close to the dragon’s head and patting his snout. The dragon’s mouth opened, revealing sharp fangs, and he seemed to sigh. He seemed to like being patted on the snout.

“I’m fine. Thank you” John murmured. He stepped back suddenly, realising what he was doing.

“John?” the dragon’s tone was confused and questioning.

“I just realised... I keep stroking my adopted father’s face”

The dragon threw his head back and made a rumbling sound that was somewhere between a roar and laughter. He crouched down again, rumbling deep in his chest.

“I suppose I never thought of it that way. I don’t mind. It’s nice though. Kind of my comfort thing in dragon form. In human form I prefer someone playing with my hair. I’m not asking you to do that though”

“Good to hear. Can I get a lift home?” John asked, and the dragon nodded, jerking his head back to signal for John to climb onto his back. John scrambled up, settling himself in the space between the wing joints. He placed his hands on the thick scales, accidently dislodging one. The dragon growled.

“What did you do that for?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, sorry”

“That hurt”

“I’m sorry”

“Hmm. I forgive you. Are you trying to build up a collection of my scales?”

“Not intentionally. Can I keep it?”

“Sure. I have plenty of the things”

The dragon took off, and John looked down to examine where the scale had come from. There was bright red thick leather like skin underneath. John prodded it, fascinated.

“Ow! Quit poking me!” the dragon protested, and John laughed.

“Sorry. If someone pulled off all your scales and stabbed you, would you die?” he asked.

“Already considering how to kill off your adoptive father? Great. I don’t know. Maybe”

“Why do you call yourself that?”

“Call myself what?”

“My adoptive father. I know you aren’t my real father, but I don’t really like being reminded that I’m adopted. I would prefer it if you just called yourself my father”

“Thank you, John. That means a lot to me”

The dragon swooped down into the alley way around the corner from home, and John slid from his back, still clutching the scale he had accidently knocked. He stepped back as the dragon folded in his wings, which gradually retracted into his back as he shrunk. John stared, fascinated, as the dragon continued to shrink, the scales melting into skin and clothes. A moment later and Sherlock smiled at him.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you turn back” John remarked, and his father laughed.

“I suppose it is. It’s much less painful than turning into the dragon initially, I must say” he replied, walking alongside John as they headed home. 

“What were you doing out so late anyway?” Sherlock asked. 

“I sent you a message to say I was going to a friend’s house” John replied.

“Oh. I think my phone ran out of battery”

“Useful”

“Sorry, John. At least you were on your way back for your eleven o’clock curfew. Even if you did nearly get mugged”

“Yeah, thank you for saving me”

“No problem. I do occasionally help people like that. I tend to scare people”

“That’s because you’re a massive dragon. Have you never looked at yourself?”

“There’s probably no mirror big enough for me to see myself”

“True. How did you know what was happening to me?” John asked.

“Easy. I caught your scent in the air, and I sort of started following you home. Then that guy grabbed you”

“You say you help people like that a lot. You don’t eat the criminals, do you?”

“Why would I do that? They usually smell so bad it’s enough to deter any thought of killing them. That guy that attacked you smelt so repulsive that if I did eat him I would probably get stomach ache for at least a week”

“Good to know”

“Good to know your dragon father doesn’t go around snacking on random people?”

“Yeah”

“I would obviously gain more nutrition from a human, but the thought of actually eating someone is repulsive. My aim is not to be a big scary monster”

“And instead be a big gentle monster?”

“I would prefer to think of it that I am not a monster at all. There’s no need to worry that I’m going to get peckish and kill you, though. Although you smell good, you’re really too small”

“Great, thanks”

“Why are we discussing this?” Sherlock asked as they arrived home.

“Because I was concerned that you go around regularly snapping people up”

“Oh right, yes. Sorry. I don’t kill people, John, I told you that before. Never have done and never will”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Curious about what would happen if I did kill someone? I already know. Someone would die; I would be captured and tortured until they found a way to kill me”

“You know what? Don’t kill anyone. I’d lose you. I don’t want that”

“Thank you, John. Glad to know I mean that much to you”

“Of course you do, father”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets attacked at school and goes straight to his father for help

John was being pushed around at lunchtime one day. He had had his bag stolen, and now they were tugging him about between them. He was surrounded, and knew that fighting back would get him nowhere. Jason, the tall blonde, punched him hard in the face, breaking John’s nose. His friend, Bailey, punched John squarely in the jaw, and John felt his jaw dislocate. They shoved him to the ground.

“Have a nice day, freak” they called as they sauntered away. John picked up his fallen rucksack, unable to move his mouth, and headed inside. Blood was streaming from his broken nose, but instead of heading towards the nurse’s office he headed to his tutor room. He tapped on the door.

“Come in” a familiar voice called, and he opened the door. Sherlock’s head snapped up at the smell of the blood, and was on his feet and had crossed the room in seconds.

“Dear God, John, what happened?” he demanded, reaching out to touch his face. John whimpered, and scrawled a message on the board.

I can’t move my mouth I think my jaw is dislocated

Sherlock read the message, quickly scrawled some cover work and pulled on his coat and scarf grimly. 

“Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital” he muttered grimly. They stopped by the office, and Sherlock’s persuasive voice instantly organised someone to watch his afternoon classes and excuse John from lessons. He then took John’s arm and headed outside, hailing for a taxi to take them to the hospital. Sherlock kept glancing at John anxiously, and leaned close, sniffing John’s coat. He pulled a face.

“Jason and Bailey. I’ll deal with them” he muttered, his eyes flickering. John nodded numbly, still unable to speak. 

They arrived at the emergency department, which was pretty full. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the smell, and headed with John over to the desk and smiled widely at the receptionist.

“Hello. My son has been beaten up pretty badly, and has a broken nose and dislocated jaw”

“What’s the name?” she asked.

“John Watson”

“I was asking him, sir, he has to answer”

“He can’t talk! He can’t open his mouth, for goodness sake”

“Very well, Mr Watson” she murmured, looking at Sherlock, who huffed.

“I’m not Mr Watson. I’m Mr Holmes, and I’m John’s legal guardian” 

“Very well, Mr Holmes. I’m afraid that due to the amount of people in here today it may be a long wait, probably at least an hour”

“Can’t you move him up the list?”

“I’m sorry, no, I can’t”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned across the desk and looked her in the eye.

“Of course you can. I want John moved up the list so that he is seen as soon as possible, is that clear?” he told her quietly, and she blinked slightly as the dragon’s commanding tone washed over her.

“I’ll get him seen to as soon as possible. Please go and take a seat”

“Thank you” Sherlock nodded once, taking John over to the corner. John watched his father wedge himself as far into the corner of the seat as possible. He closed his eyes and was breathing through his mouth. John wondered if he could smell all of the blood from various different people. John rummaged in his bag, wincing slightly, and scribbled a message. He tapped Sherlock’s knee. His father opened his eyes, which were blazing bright red.

Are you alright?

“I’m fine, John. Don’t worry about me”

I always worry about you

“You shouldn’t. I’m not worth it”

John didn’t get a chance to write another message in reply as his name was called. They both stood, and Sherlock held John’s bag, watching closely as the doctor examined John’s jaw.

“Yep, definitely dislocated, but the good news is I can fix it now for you. The bad news is it will hurt like hell”

John nodded to indicate his permission, and the doctor took his jaw and pushed it back into place. John screamed, and Sherlock flinched, his eyes burning. He hated hearing John in pain, but he forced himself to remain still.

“How does that feel, John?” the doctor asked. John rubbed his jaw.

“Not too bad” he mumbled. Sherlock sighed with relief and watched the doctor wipe the dried blood from John’s face. His tongue automatically flickered between his teeth, but he pushed down the animal urge inside him and watched the doctor tape John’s nose in place so it wouldn’t heal crooked. He smiled.

“All done then, John. Stay out of trouble”

“Thanks” John muttered, standing up and following his silent father from the hospital. Once they were outside, Sherlock breathed out.

“Are you alright, John?” he asked. John nodded.

“Jaw still hurts a bit, but I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you”

“Me? Why would you worry about me?” Sherlock asked, confused and touched at the same time.

“You said you weren’t worth worrying about. I don’t think that’s true. I worry about you because I care, okay? I was concerned because you looked uncomfortable in there. I thought something was wrong”

“There was nothing wrong, John”

“Don’t believe you”

“Why not?”

“Because you were breathing funny, your eyes were bright red and you looked hungry. Did you have lunch?”

“No, I didn’t have lunch today”

“Did you have breakfast?”

“...No I did not”

“That would explain it. You could have waited outside if the smell bothered you that much”

“I was fine, John. I didn’t kill anyone. I wanted to make sure you were alright. You’re more important than my stupid diet”

“No. If you don’t follow your diet, you get hungry. You then kill someone, whether it’s on purpose or by accident. Then you get arrested and tortured and killed. I don’t want that”

“...I see that I mean more to you than I originally thought”

“Of course you mean a lot to me”

“Thank you, John”

“Now, take your hungry eyes off me, please. It’s making me nervous”

“Sorry”

 

Once back home, John watched his father tear into a huge piece of raw steak, his teeth tearing it into strips. John sat opposite with some biscuits. 

“So... did you have... a good... day?” Sherlock asked as he swallowed bits of steak. John sighed.

“Apart from lunch, fine”

“What... happened?”

“I don’t really know. They just surrounded me all of a sudden and started beating me up”

“Hmm...” Sherlock had stood up and was rummaging in the fridge again. He came back with another steak.

“They kept saying stuff about how stupid you were. I think they wanted me to fight back”

“That would have... caused more injury” Sherlock mumbled around his steak. John nodded.

“I know. That’s why I didn’t fight back. I wanted to though. Nobody should ever call you stupid. You’re the opposite”

“Thank you. I’ll deal with them”

“Don’t be too harsh”

“Of course not”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets ill but John is there to help him

“John Watson?” 

“What, yes?” John sat up in bed to see a vaguely familiar figure watching him.

“You have to come. Sherlock’s collapsed”

“What? Is he okay?”

“He needs you. Come now” 

“Are you Mycroft?”

“Yes, I’m your uncle Mycroft. Now come on”

John scrambled out of bed, hurriedly pulling on some clothes. 

“What happened?” he asked as he fastened his trainers.

“Sherlock being an idiot and not following his diet. He’s stuck in dragon form and can’t move. Have you got any steaks or something?”

“Sure, in the fridge” John replied, following his uncle down to the kitchen, who piled several steaks into a bag and dragging John from the flat. They ran to the alleyway, where John could see the enormous dragon laid on his side, breathing deeply, his eyes shut. His nostrils flared as they approached, and he opened his eyes, fixing them on John. His lips pulled back slowly, revealing his fangs.

“Hello... John”

“Father, what happened?” John asked urgently, stepping closer and touching the dragon’s thick scales, causing the dragon to sigh.

“I’ve been... working a lot... and I forgot to eat... now I’m stuck”

“If you eat something now, will it help you turn back?”

“I think so”

Mycroft stepped forward with the carrier bag, but the dragon growled quietly.

“Stay back, brother mine. John looks after me”

“Very well” Mycroft handed John the bag and stepped back, leaning against the opposite wall, watching as John removed a steak from the bag. The dragon’s slit pupils widened at the smell, and he opened his jaw enough for John to place the steak inside. He closed his mouth and started chewing slowly, his eyes shut again. The muscles in his neck contracted as he swallowed. He opened his eyes and fixed them on John.

“More please”

John smiled, and placed another steak, larger than the first, into the dragon’s open mouth. He only just managed to move his hand before the dragon’s jaw closed. 

“Try not to bite my hand off next time”

“Sorry” the dragon continued to chew his steak. He swallowed, and managed to lift his head slightly.

“Are you feeling any better?” John asked.

“A little. Still hungry”

John laughed, and shoved another steak into the dragon’s mouth. The dragon chewed quickly, and swallowed again. He closed his eyes.

“Ahh”

“Father? Sherlock? What is it? What’s wrong?” John asked anxiously. The dragon opened his eyes again, and his lips pulled back in a small smile.

“I’m changing back”

John stepped back as the dragon shrank slowly, his wings retracting into his back. A minute later, and Sherlock was laid on the floor on his side, his eyes shut. John knelt down and touched his father’s forehead. He was breathing, but had fallen unconscious. John looked up at Mycroft, who pushed himself off the wall.

“Come on, he needs to go home” he sighed, scooping his younger brother into his arms and striding back to the flat. John followed, still clutching the carrier bag that still held steak. He put the steak in the fridge as Mycroft appeared in the doorway. 

“Well, he’s in bed. I have to go. Keep an eye on him, please? Read to him, whatever, just get him awake. My number’s on the table if you need me” he murmured and John nodded as his uncle departed. John headed down to Sherlock’s room, and paused before opening the door. He remembered Sherlock asking him not to enter without permission, but John realised the normal rules were on hold at the moment. Plus, Mycroft had sort of given him permission. He opened the door and edged inside. Sherlock was flat on his back in the centre of the double bed, asleep. John looked around with interest. There was a bookshelf with several chemistry books, and on the top were several framed photos. John looked at them. There was Sherlock and Mycroft, and two people John assumed were their parents. There was also a photo of Sherlock and John, taken just after John had moved in. John smiled, and fetched one of the chairs from the kitchen table, pulling it over to sit by the bedside. He noticed the framed periodic table on the wall that John had given him when he left school, which caused him to smile. He stepped close to the bed and gently smoothed the thick dark curls from Sherlock’s face. His father sighed a little, and started snoring quietly. John smiled fondly and then selected the most battered chemistry book, assuming it was one of Sherlock’s favourites, and opened it, and started reading the first chapter aloud. He was halfway through the third chapter when Sherlock stirred, and opened his eyes slowly. John stopped reading, and his father looked at him, a small smile on his lips.

“Were you reading to me?” he rasped.

“Um, yes” John mumbled. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been dragged to hell and back. I need a drink. And something to eat”

“I’ll get you something. Be right back” John stood, and hurried to the kitchen. He placed some steak on a plate and poured a large glass of water, and carried both back to Sherlock’s room. Sherlock opened his eyes again when he heard John enter, and his eyes flickered slightly. John helped him sit up and prop himself against the pillows. He noticed how thin his father was, and cursed himself for not noticing that he had been skipping meals. Sherlock’s hands shook as he accepted the water, which he sipped. He set the glass on the side and picked up the steak with trembling fingers, and started chewing the corner.

“Father, do you trust me?” John asked. Sherlock swallowed a large part of his steak in shock and choked slightly. He drank some water.

“Yes, of course I trust you, John”

“Well, I hope you believe me when I say you’ve been a total idiot”

“... Thank you, John, for that”

“I mean it. You starved yourself, and for what?”

“I’ve been busy at work, John”

“Staying healthy is more important”

“I guess” Sherlock muttered, finishing his first steak and picking up the second.

“I mean it, father. No more skipping meals. You scared me”

“I’m sorry, John”

“I’m sorry as well” John mumbled quietly, causing Sherlock to frown.

“What for? None of this is your fault”

“I know. I’m sorry because I broke the rules and entered your room. Now I’ve been in my teacher’s room, who knows if I can forget it?” he snickered, and Sherlock gave a raspy laugh.

“Oh John. You never fail to cheer me up. As for you breaking the rules, I forgive you. Whilst I am incapacitated, you are permitted to enter”

“How long are you staying in bed for?” John asked.

“I’ll transform later. I’ll need you to come with me in case I get stuck again, though. If not, probably another day of taking it easy and I’ll be fine”

“Good to hear”

 

That evening, John pulled on his backpack. Inside were a few steaks wrapped carefully in plastic bags. Sherlock stared. 

“What’s the bag for?” he asked, confused, as they headed to the alleyway.

“Some meat for you if you get stuck” John replied, and Sherlock chuckled as he grew, morphing into the dragon. 

“Oh, John. What would I do without you?” the dragon asked, fully formed beside John. John chuckled, and patted the dragon’s snout as he bowed his head.

“You probably wouldn’t be here. Are you feeling okay?”

“Not too bad, actually. Fancy a quick flight?”

“You know I won’t refuse that”

“I know. Climb aboard. And this time, don’t pull out my scales”

“I didn’t mean to last time, it was an accident” John muttered as he scrambled onto the dragon’s back and the dragon laughed.

“Sure, whatever you say”

“I would never hurt you on purpose, father”

“Thank you”

John leaned close to the dragon, feeling the muscles move as he flapped his wings. John never got cold, despite the altitudes and heights the dragon sometimes drifted into. The dragon was like a furnace, burning away. John ran his hands over the scales on the dragon’s neck gently, causing the dragon to purr.

“That’s nice”

“Your scales are very smooth”

“Hmm yes”

“Are you alright?” John asked anxiously.

“Not great. I can’t see properly and this is how it started last night”

“Land now then” John told him and the dragon huffed a little before he swooped back to the alley way, landing with a thud. John slid from his back, watching anxiously as the dragon swayed slightly, before he lay down and curled up slightly.

“Father? Can you change back?” John asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry” the dragon sighed, and closed his eyes. John pulled out his mobile.

“I’m going to call Uncle Mycroft, is that okay?” he asked. The dragon’s eyes snapped open.

“I suppose so”

“Good” John muttered, finding the number in his contacts and pressing call. His uncle picked up after three rings.

“Hello? John?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Father’s stuck again”

“I’ve only just changed back myself. I’ll be with you soon. Are you in the alleyway?”

“Yes”

“Stay with him. Do not leave his side” his uncle ordered and the line went dead. John put his phone away and stepped close to the dragon, running his hand along the dragon’s neck gently.

“Father?” he asked. The dragon sighed.

“Yes?”

“Please be alright” John murmured, resting his cheek against the dragon’s, running his hand down the snout, causing the dragon to sigh again.

“I’m sure I will. I’m hungry though. Did you say you brought steaks?”

“Yes, I did. Would you like some?”

“Please”

John slid his bag from his back and opened it. He pulled out one of the steaks and the dragon opened his mouth obediently. He chewed the steak slowly.

“This is nice”

John smiled and pulled out another steak as Mycroft arrived, hurrying down the alleyway. He stopped, and the dragon’s eyes opened, nostrils flaring as he picked up the scent of his brother.

“Hello brother mine”

“Sherlock. Been an idiot again, have you?” Mycroft asked. The dragon growled as he swallowed his second steak.

“I have not. I have stuck to my diet today”

“Has he, John?” Mycroft asked. John nodded.

“I made sure of it”

“Hmm. Perhaps even with your meat filled diet you still aren’t getting the right nutrition. Unfortunately there is no research in how to keep someone like you alive. Generally people tried to kill the dragon rather than save it”

“I know. Ahh, I think I’m changing back”

The dragon shrunk back down into a bedraggled human. Sherlock stirred from where he lay on the floor, and looked up, raising his arms weakly.

“John” he whimpered. John gently helped his father to his feet, his arm around his shoulders, supporting him. Sherlock leaned heavily against him, pale and sickly looking as they took him home.

Mycroft helped Sherlock get changed and settle him into bed whilst John waited outside the room. He didn’t particularly want to see his teacher naked. A few minutes later and Mycroft poked his head out.

“Come on, he’s asking for you” he smiled slightly and John followed back into the room. His father was propped up in bed, and his eyes opened when they entered. He smiled weakly and patted the space beside him on the bed, and John sat down, rubbing his father’s shoulder.

“I recommend that we change your diet” Mycroft murmured, and Sherlock sighed.

“Fine. What’s the changes?” he asked.

“Originally we believed that three times the normal amount of protein was enough to sustain you. It clearly worked for a period of time, but not anymore. I think we should accelerate that to five times”

“...Fine”

“That means two steaks for breakfast and lunch and three in the evening. John, you must make sure he sticks to this”

“I will”

“I will now go and contact your work and say you won’t be in until next week, both of you, due to both of you catching the flu. I’ll also arrange for more meat to be brought round later. Call me if he gets stuck again” Mycroft nodded once and swept from the room gracefully. John watched him go, wondering if it was a family trait that both the Holmes brothers were quiet and graceful in their movements. He jumped when Sherlock touched his arm.

“Are you alright, John?”

“You keep collapsing and getting stuck in dragon form and you’re worried about me?” John asked. His father looked confused.

“Yes, I am worried about you. I always am worried, because you’re my son”

“Thank you, father. Would you like me to get anything?” John asked, and his father smirked.

“I know what you’re hinting at. I suppose I’d better have breakfast”

“Right then” John stood up and headed into the kitchen. He selected two steaks and noticed they were running out. He hoped Mycroft made the delivery soon. He sighed, and headed back to Sherlock’s room. Sherlock had his head back and his eyes shut, and his nostrils flared as he caught the smell of meat. He opened his eyes as John took a seat beside him and handed him the plate. 

“Thank you”

John folded his arms, watching his father. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

“You’re staring at me”

“Sorry”

“No it’s... its fine”

“I didn’t mean to stare”

“I know. I suppose you’re worried about me?”

“Always, father”

 

That evening, Sherlock managed to change back with no problems, and John hugged him tightly, ignoring the blazing temperature of his father. Sherlock put his arms around John, slightly surprised.

“John?” he asked anxiously. John sniffed, and Sherlock realised he was crying. “John, look at me” he purred, his authoritative voice washing over John. John raised his tear stained face to meet his father’s gaze.

“I... I’m sorry, father” he mumbled. Sherlock sighed.

“Whatever for?”

“For crying”

“You know I don’t mind. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll make it better”

“... There’s nothing wrong. This is happy crying”

“Happy crying?”

“Yes. Because you’re alright”

“Of course I am, John. Everything is going to be alright now”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day because I forgot to update yesterday (I'm sorry about that)  
> As always, comments/kudos are much appreciated


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock spend some quality father-son time

The next Saturday, John woke up earlier than usual. He sighed, and headed downstairs, but found no sign of his adopted father. He listened, and heard Sherlock snoring quietly, evidently still asleep. John glanced at the clock, and saw it was nearly nine o’clock. He made two cups of tea, and placed two steaks onto a plate. He went and tapped on the bedroom door, opening it slightly.

“Father?” he asked. There was a grunt from the bed. “I made you breakfast”

Another grunt and Sherlock shifted in bed, raising his head sleepily to see his adopted son.

“John?” he asked, still half asleep.

“Yes, father?”

“What time is it?”

“Gone nine”

“Oh. Come in then, don’t loiter in the doorway”

John moved into the room as his father pulled himself into an upright position against the pillows. He rubbed his head, and smiled at John, who handed him the plate and set the mug on the side.

“Thanks John. You didn’t have to get up and do this for me”

“Its fine, I don’t mind” John replied, pulling over a chair as his father started his breakfast. 

“Hmm what do you want to do today?” Sherlock asked between bites.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably do some homework. Why?” John asked.

“Huh. Homework. Boring. Work. Boring. Why don’t we go out today?”

“Um... where?”

“I don’t know, just out somewhere. We hardly spend any father-son time”

“That sounds good”

“My thoughts exactly. Okay. Let me finish this and get dressed and we’ll go”

“I’ll go and get dressed”

“Meet you in the front room in half an hour”

 

John dressed and combed his hair, brushed his teeth and headed out into the front room. Sherlock had been curled up in his chair, reading, and looked up when John walked in, standing up.

“All ready then?” he asked.

“Yep” John replied.

 

They walked to the park, and Sherlock purchased a kite, which he helped John to set up and fly, leaning down and adjusting the strings over John’s shoulder. He started watching the kite, and didn’t notice John glance at him happily. Sherlock didn’t know it, but John’s dad had once taken him kite flying, and John loved it. He hoped they could do it again sometime. After awhile, Sherlock disappeared, leaving John with the kite. John kept glancing around, slightly anxious at his father’s disappearance, only to see the familiar figure striding back towards him up the path, the long coat flapping in the breeze. Sherlock smiled widely at him.

“I thought I’d better go and get lunch” he held up a carrier bag. John nodded, and Sherlock helped him reel the kite back in. They found a shaded spot under a fairly small tree, which Sherlock pulled a face at.

“Something wrong with the tree?” John asked, amused.

“No, no. It’s only about ninety years old. I’m older than a blooming tree” Sherlock replied, and John laughed.

“You don’t look it”

“Thank you, John. Want some lunch?” he asked, and John nodded. Sherlock rummaged through the bag, and handed John some sandwiches. John watched his father lean right back against the tree in the shadows and pull out a steak. Of course, John realised, they would most likely get in trouble if Sherlock was seen munching on raw steak. John was used to it, but other people would not be. After finishing lunch, Sherlock leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. John watched him for a moment, and then pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.

“Stop taking pictures of me” Sherlock muttered without opening his eyes. John smirked.

“Why?”

“I don’t like having my picture taken much”

“Can I have one of us together?” John asked. Sherlock opened his eyes at that, and looked at John.

“What would you want that for?”

“Because I have hardly any pictures of me and my real dad, and I don’t want to lose you and have nothing to remember you by” John mumbled quietly. Sherlock sat up, and sighed.

“Fine” he muttered, allowing John to shuffle closer. Sherlock put his arm around John’s shoulders, and smiled at the front facing camera on John’s phone. John snapped the picture, and moved back. He loaded it on the screen and showed Sherlock, who pulled a face.

“Is that really what my hair looks like?” he asked, and John laughed.

“There’s nothing wrong with your hair, father”

“If you say so”

 

They then played catch with a tennis ball Sherlock had brought, much to John’s confusion.

“Why do you have a tennis ball?” he asked as he threw it.

“I used to play tennis when I was younger. Before... before I changed” Sherlock replied, easily catching the ball.

“That’s cool”

“Hmm yes”

John drifted into thinking about what his father might have looked like before he became a dragon every night. He was so busy thinking about it he didn’t notice the tennis ball come flying through the air and hit his shoulder. He picked it up, rubbing his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked anxiously.

“I’m fine”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing, nothing”

Sherlock caught the tennis ball and stepped closer, and John looked up at him, blinking, still trying to picture a toddler version of his father.

“Don’t lie to me, John. What were you thinking about?”

“...you as a little kid” John sighed, and Sherlock burst out laughing.

“Really? If you’re that interested, I’ve got tonnes of photos at home”

“You’re going to let me look through your baby photos?”

“I don’t care, really. They’re quite old, most of them, but I did spend ages getting them developed into colour”

“I bet you were cute”

“Please. I was not cute”

“Bet you were”

 

On the walk home, Sherlock bought two cakes from the baker’s, and John stared at his father.

“What?” he asked as he bit into his cake.

“You’re eating cake”

“Excellent deduction there, John. I don’t just have to live off steak, and it can get boring sometimes. Of course, I get no energy from this really, but it doesn’t matter” Sherlock replied.

“I never thought I’d see you eat something normal” John remarked, and Sherlock laughed.

“I’m sorry about that. You could have been adopted by anyone, really, a nice, loving father who didn’t turn into a dragon every night, and yet now you’re stuck with me”

John finished his cake as they turned into Baker Street, and said nothing. Sherlock glanced at him anxiously as he unlocked the door.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and John nodded silently. Once they were back inside, John hugged Sherlock around the middle.

“I’m happy that you adopted me. I don’t care if you turn into a dragon every night. You’re kind, and smart, and a really nice person. I wouldn’t swap you for anything” he murmured quietly. Sherlock patted his back.

“Thank you, John. You couldn’t swap me even if you tried. I probably should have told you earlier, but dragons are very protective of what is theirs. I claimed you as my son, and that’s what you are now, forever, I suppose”

“That’s fine. Now, I want to see these baby pictures” John stepped back and grinned. Sherlock laughed, and hung up his coat and scarf before heading over to the bookshelf in the corner. He pulled out several photo albums John had never noticed before, and took them to the sofa, patting the space next to him. John sat down, and watched Sherlock open the first album. The first photo contained two small children, pushing each other away. John had to admit that looking at it you couldn’t tell it had been taken a hundred years ago. Sherlock pointed at the smaller of the two, who had a mop of thick black hair.

“That’s me, obviously. And Mycroft, pushing me about as always” he sighed quietly, turning the page. There were the two boys again, joined this time by their parents. Sherlock was being held by his mother, and Mycroft by his father.

The next photo was Sherlock dressed smartly in a uniform. Underneath was written “William’s first day of school, 1897”

“I forgot your name was William. I got used to thinking of you as Sherlock”

“Hmm yes. I never go by William. Haven’t done for at least ninety years”

“I think Sherlock suits you better”

“Thank you”

The next photo was Sherlock, aged seven, crouched beside a dog. 

“Red Beard” Sherlock murmured.

“What?” John asked.

“Red Beard. My dog”

“What happened to him?” John asked. Sherlock sighed.

“He was ill, and had to be put down about a year after this was taken”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s... its fine” Sherlock mumbled, turning the page. A ten year old Sherlock grinned up at them, clutching a tennis trophy.

“There, told you I played tennis” Sherlock grinned proudly. John laughed.

“I never doubted that you didn’t”

A fourteen year old Sherlock and a seventeen year old Mycroft glared up at them, their childhood happiness gone. Sherlock sighed.

“I’d just started breathing fire at that point. I was unhappy, and Mycroft wouldn’t tell me anything. He’d already started changing every night. I was so confused when he locked the door to his room. He never did that usually. I felt so lonely”

“He did it to keep you safe, though”

“I know that now, obviously, but still”

On the next page was a photo of a dragon. John stared, fascinated. Underneath was written “Sherlock’s first transformation, 1906”

The dragon in the photo looked a lot like the dragon John knew, but smaller. The dragon’s eyes were wide with fear.

“I was so confused and scared the first time, and it hurt so much. I can never forget it”

“I won’t forget the first time I saw you change either”

“I bet you won’t. I won’t forget your face. Priceless”

“Well, I had just seen my teacher turn into a huge fire breathing dragon”

“I sometimes wish I turned into something smaller that wasn’t as dangerous”

“I think it’s awesome, you being a dragon”

“Thank you”

 

That evening, after a flight around London, Sherlock went to put John to bed, as was his custom whenever John accompanied him. He was tucking the duvet in around John when John suddenly sat up and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck, hugging him tight. 

“I love you father” he murmured. Sherlock felt tears sting his eyes, and he hugged John.

“Love you too, John” he whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets hurt at school and Sherlock shows his loving father side

Sherlock was wandering around on his patrol duty, his hands in his pockets, his coat collar turned up. He didn’t notice the young girl running towards him until she slammed into his back at high speed, causing him to stumble slightly. He spun round.

“In future, Molly, it might be wise to look where you are going” he turned away and she blushed.

“Yes Sir. Sorry Sir. It’s an emergency” she gasped.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s John Watson, Sir, he’s hurt” she gasped, and he whirled around again. 

“What? Where?” he demanded.

“The maths block... they said I should get you because you adopted him” 

Sherlock swore under his breath and took off at a sprint, leaving Molly to struggle to keep up behind him, his coat flying as he ran. He burst into the maths block to see a small crowd of people at the bottom of the stairs and the nurse crouched beside a figure on the floor. Sherlock flinched when he smelt John’s blood, and pushed his way through the crowds, dropping to his knees on the floor.

“Ah, Mr Holmes. I’ve called for an ambulance, he fell down the stairs and hit his head, and I think his arm’s broken as well. I can’t lift him though” the nurse muttered. Sherlock carefully scooped John into his arms, trying not to stare at John’s bleeding head. He strode through the school, ignoring people’s stares, out to the main entrance, where an ambulance had just pulled up. The paramedics rushed over and tried to take John from him, but he refused to let him go.

“Sir, you need to let him go, we need to contact his parents”

“John is my adopted son, I am his legal guardian and I’ll be damned if you are leaving me here!” Sherlock shouted. They reluctantly allowed him to climb in the back of the ambulance as well, watching as John was laid on the stretcher, a neck brace fitted and a monitor attached to his chest, showing his heart rate. Sherlock watched the paramedic examine the head injury, and tried not to think about the blood which smelt good. He’d just eaten, he told himself and he shouldn’t feel hungry again. 

Once at the hospital, John was taken for a series of x-rays and scans on his head, arm and torso, whilst Sherlock paced outside anxiously. After that, John, who was still unconscious, was taken to a private hospital room. Sherlock sat beside the bed and watched a young doctor stitch the cut on John’s head. 

“My name’s Doctor Robinson” the man murmured. Sherlock grunted.

“Sherlock Holmes, John’s guardian” he muttered.

“I’ll get the scan results soon, Mr Holmes” Doctor Robinson told him, leaving the room and shutting the door. Sherlock took John’s left hand in his own because John’s right arm was still twisted at an odd angle. He wondered why they hadn’t set it yet, because it was obviously broken. 

“John. John, can you hear me?” he asked, but he remained still and unmoving. “John, please”

Doctor Robinson came back a few minutes later and began to set John’s broken arm. Sherlock flinched as the bone was set straight and plastered. After fixing John’s arm, Doctor Robinson removed the neck brace.

“There’s been no damage to his neck or shoulders, just his head. He should be alright, although if something happens, press the red button”

“Okay, thank you” Sherlock replied without removing his eyes from John’s face. Doctor Robinson left again, and Sherlock touched his son’s cheek.

“John. Listen to me. I need you to wake up, okay? Please can you do that for me? Stop... being... unconscious” he choked up slightly at the end, and wiped his hand across his face, blotting the tears.

“I never thought I’d see you cry, father” a voice whispered, and he jumped. John was blinking up at him, a small smile on his face. Sherlock cried with relief and clutched John’s hand.

“Oh John, thank you, thank you” he mumbled. 

“Why are you thanking me? You brought me back” John muttered.

“I did?”

“Of course. You and your dragon voice” John replied. “Don’t tell me you forgot”

“I... I guess I did, I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to command you when you’re unconscious”

“Its fine, I forgive you”

“Thank you. How are you feeling?”

“Not great. My head hurts and is my arm in plaster?”

“Yeah. You broke your arm and there’s stitches in your head. You’ll be alright though” Sherlock replied. John reached up and touched the stitches gently.

“Oh... what’s going to happen about Jason and Bailey?” he asked.

“What about Jason and Bailey?” Sherlock asked, confused.

“They pushed me down the stairs. I didn’t hit my head so hard that I forgot that”

“What? They did this to you?” Sherlock demanded, his eyes flickering.

“Yes. They pushed me down the stairs”

“I was told you fell....”

“No. I’m not that clumsy. I couldn’t have managed to fall all the way to the bottom of the stairs on my own”

“I’ll bloody kill them for this”

“No you won’t. Remember? Nice, friendly dragon that doesn’t kill people” John muttered, causing his father to sigh and glance at his watch.

“Fine. I am not letting this go”

 

Sherlock was told to leave for the night and to collect John in the morning. John noticed his father was shaking anyway as he forced himself not to change.

“Go and fly. I’ll be alright, father, I’ll see you tomorrow” he murmured, and Sherlock nodded, touching John’s head lightly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Stay safe” he murmured before hurrying from the room. John watched him go and sighed.

John could hear the rumble of the dragon that night, swooping around near the hospital. He knew his father wouldn’t want to leave him, and sighed, wishing he could tell Sherlock to calm down. He saw the dragon soar past the window on his way home, and smiled to himself. He loved his new dad the dragon. 

 

The next morning, and John was woken by raised voices that hurt his head. He groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position. The door was open, and outside a nurse was blocking the way into the room, telling Sherlock he couldn’t enter because he wasn’t John’s guardian. John was about to call out that it was fine, when Sherlock smiled widely at the nurse.

“John Watson is my son, and you will let me in to see him now” he purred quietly. The nurse blinked slowly, and stepped aside.

“Of course, sir, I don’t know what I was thinking” she mumbled. Sherlock entered the room with a smirk, and smiled at John.

“Hi John. How are you feeling?” he asked. John shrugged.

“Not too bad. Can I go home, then?” he asked.

“Sure. Can you get dressed?”

“I think I’ll be fine...” John mumbled.

“...Do you want me to wait outside?”

“Please. You are still my teacher after all”

“Fair enough. I’ll be just outside” Sherlock stood, and walked slowly from the room, standing with his arms folded and his back to the door. John scrambled into his clothes, careful of his bandaged arm, and went and opened the door. Sherlock turned around, and smiled.

“Alright, John?” he asked, and John nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good. Ready to go home”

“Come on then, let’s get you home”

 

John went back to school on the Friday, and as soon as people saw him in tutor they crowded around him, asking what had happened. He flinched slightly at their loud voices, and Sherlock growled under his breath, and called for attention.

“As you are clearly aware, John has returned. He has had to have stitches in his head and has a broken arm, and as such I expect that you all do not badger him about what happened and be mindful of his injuries” he murmured quietly, watching the class blink as his commanding voice washed over them. He smirked to himself; that was the one thing being a dragon improved for him... he could make people do what he wanted. 

 

At lunchtime, John went and tapped on his tutor room door.

“Come in”

John pushed open the door, and walked in. Sherlock, who had been simultaneously eating a steak he was holding in his left hand and marking exercise books with his right hand, looked up, smiling when he saw John by the door.

“Come in, come in, John, don’t loiter in the doorway. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. It was a bit noisy outside, so I thought I’d come and see you” John replied, pulling out a chair with one hand and sitting down.

“Its fine, John, you know I’m always here for you. I would have thought you’d have gotten fed up of seeing me all the time by now”

“I doubt that could happen. You’re great”

“If you mean a great big dragon, why yes, I am” Sherlock swallowed the rest of his steak and laughed.

“I actually meant you’re a great guy, but yeah, you are a great big dragon as well”

“Thank you, John”

“No problem, father. I mean Sir”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock shares more of his past with John

“Father, I’ve been meaning to ask you something” John mumbled as they walked home one evening and Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

“Have you ever considered, you know, getting a girlfriend?” John asked, and Sherlock burst out laughing.

“Whatever for?”

“Well, you know, you could get married, have kids, pass on your dragon thing”

“Hmm I considered it once. But now I’ve got you, and I don’t really like small children much anyway. And I would not want to inflict my ability onto anyone, particularly not a child of mine”

“I guess that’s reasonable. I just thought that you spend a lot of your time working and worrying about me. Maybe a woman would be a calming influence on you”

“I don’t need a calming influence” Sherlock snapped as they headed up to the flat.

“It was just a suggestion”

“Well, it was a lousy one. I’m perfectly fine the way I am”

“Alright”

“Don’t say anything about me getting married again, do you understand?”

“I understand” John mumbled.

“There is nothing wrong with me, I am perfectly happy with how my life is at the moment, and I do not think it is your place to be interfering” Sherlock snapped before storming into his room and slamming the door. John stood there for a moment, stunned, before heading upstairs and shutting himself into his own room. He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and sighed, rubbing his eyes. He knew he had crossed some sort of line and had upset his father, but he also knew he should wait for awhile before going to apologise, because if he went downstairs now he knew he would probably end up even more injured than he already was.

 

Sherlock left that evening without seeing or speaking to John again. John knew he should get some sleep, but he couldn’t, knowing that he had upset his father. Instead, he pulled out an empty scrapbook he had been meaning to use, and started sticking in several photos of himself and Sherlock together. He had more than he thought, and at the back underneath a photo of them in the park, he wrote “Me and my father – my best friend” neatly. He sneaked downstairs and left the book on Sherlock’s bed, and hurried back upstairs, sliding into bed and staring at the ceiling as he heard Sherlock enter the flat and head into his room. He listened, and waited. A few minutes later, and he heard a tap on the door.

“John? Are you awake?”

“...Yes”

“Can I come in?” Sherlock asked.

“...Yes” John mumbled. Sherlock opened the door and came in, clutching the photo album. He edged forward and perched on the end of the bed, turning to face John, who had sat up.

“You made this for me?” Sherlock asked quietly, looking down at the album. 

“Surely you know that. Of course I did” John replied.

“Why?”

“Because you are my father, and you mean a lot to me, and I wanted to make sure that you knew just how much you mean to me. I also wanted to say sorry for earlier” John whispered quietly.

“I have never been that important to anyone before, except maybe Mycroft. He fusses. But you’re the only person who cared for me that wasn’t related to me. Well, that’s not strictly true. You’re one of two people who cared for me. It should be me apologizing for snapping at you, but it’s that time of year again...”

“What time of year? April? And who’s the other person?” John asked. Sherlock sighed.

“Come with me. I suppose it’s time I told you” he sighed, standing and leaving the room. John scrambled after him down to his own bedroom.

“Sit on the bed” Sherlock instructed and John did so, watching his father place the album on the side and then crouch down and reach under the bed and pull out a cardboard box, and a small wooden box. He sat down beside John with the wooden box on his lap.

“In these boxes are all of the things I have to remember her by... I said I had considered getting married once. I’d more than considered it. I was engaged once” he murmured quietly.

“What happened to her?” John asked, curious. 

“She became pregnant with my child, and I had proposed to her shortly before she told me she was pregnant. Everything was perfect, really, I was going to be a husband and a father, and I thought nothing could go wrong. This was about thirty years ago. She was like me, she transformed at night. She turned into the most beautiful phoenix you can imagine. It’s why I hate seeing Mycroft when he transforms... he reminds me too much of her. Whilst she was pregnant, she no longer transformed. I would remain in the alley by her home rather than fly, and she would come and talk to me, tell me about her day, tell me about her pregnancy. I always listened, and I would watch her. She was beautiful, whether she was human or phoenix. One day, I was slightly late getting to our meeting point in the alley. I’ll never forgive myself for it. I was two minutes late, and in those two minutes... she was waiting for me, and was attacked. She was seven months pregnant at the time, and we were getting married the following weekend. I arrived in time to see the man stab her in the back, severing her spine and piercing her heart in one move. I lied about never killing a human, but the murderer had killed several people, and in my eyes he was not human. I dealt with him swiftly, and then crouched beside my dying fiancé. She curled up against me, and her last words to me were “Stay safe, Sherlock. Find someone to look after you. I love you” and then she died, curled up against me. If people had come down that alley that night, they would have seen a huge dragon crying over the body of a young woman. I turned back, and held her, desperately trying to feel if there was a chance the baby could at least be saved, but there was no hope. I go and visit her grave, every year on the anniversary of her death, which is next week. You can come with me if you like”

John listened, and looked up at his father. He wasn’t surprised to see the tears in his eyes.

“What was her name?” John asked gently. Sherlock showed him the wooden box, which he had been subconsciously stroking as he talked. “Irene”

“The man who killed her. You said... you said you killed him...”

“One and only time I have killed. Oh, I didn’t eat him if you were wondering. He smelt repulsive, and I would not want him inside me. He had just destroyed my life by removing my fiancé and my child from the world, and I wasn’t thinking straight. It was a quick death for him, quicker than Irene’s own death. I sometimes look back and think I should have made him suffer”

“But what did you do to him?” John asked. Sherlock sighed.

“I blasted him with a high flame concentration, turning him to ash within a minute. If he had run quicker, I would have found him the next night and made his death more painful”

“I understand why you snapped at me about getting married and having kids. If I had known...” John trailed off, looking away sadly. Sherlock patted his shoulder.

“There was no way you could have known about Irene. I... I just get a bit tetchy near the anniversary of her death. I apologise for snapping at you. You didn’t know that you had touched upon the topic I am wary of. I had been engaged, and I had been an expectant father. In a few minutes I lost both of those things” Sherlock murmured, opening the wooden box. Inside were one of Sherlock’s scales, a bright orange feather and two wedding rings.

“We’d already purchased the rings, because as I said, our wedding was due to take place a week later. The scale is mine, obviously, and the feather was hers, from her tail. She was so beautiful”

Sherlock closed the box with a sigh, and turned to the other box, opening it and lifting out a photo album.

“I have a tendency to create photo albums, so the fact you have done the same for me means a lot. It took me a month to make this” he sighed quietly, opening the album to the first page. John leaned closer to see. There was Sherlock, stood smartly in his usual suit (minus the tie) with his hands on the shoulders of a young woman in a dress. 

“We’d just gotten together at this point” Sherlock murmured, his eyes fixed on the smiling image of his dead fiancé. 

“She looks lovely” John murmured quietly as Sherlock turned the pages. There was a photo of Sherlock knelt on one knee, holding an open ring box out to Irene and smiling, her hand clapped over her mouth in surprise. There were the happy couple, Irene showing off her new engagement ring whilst Sherlock laughed, his grey eyes bright with love and happiness.

“My eyes hardly changed much when I was with her. Usually when I got particularly annoyed about something. Since her death I’ve lost what control I did have over it” Sherlock murmured, turning the page again. There was him sat beside Irene, his arm around her shoulders. Irene was clearly a few months pregnant by this point, and they both looked happy, content and proud.

The final image was of Irene with Sherlock behind her, his arms around her and gently cradling the bump that was their child, his chin resting on her shoulder, smiling widely.

“That was taken the last day. She died that evening” Sherlock whispered, tears running steadily down his cheeks. He made no move to brush them away, so John moved the album and handed his father a tissue before wrapping his arms around him and holding his father as he cried.

“It’s okay, father, it’s fine, shhh, I’m here for you” he murmured, causing Sherlock to laugh weakly. He patted John’s back and moved away.

“Who would have thought a dragon like me would cry?” he mumbled. John smiled.

“Thank you for telling me all this. I feel like I understand you better, now I know”

“I feel better now I’ve told someone. Thank you for listening and understanding. And not hating me because I killed someone”

“I wouldn’t hate you. He took away everything you cared about in a second. I think his death was deserved” John replied.

“Hmm yes. I still felt guilty about it afterwards. Still do, occasionally. I believe when I said to you in mentoring that I had never killed anyone that I left pretty quickly. I had lied to you, and I’m sorry. I occasionally think about it. I killed someone I didn’t know. But then I remember Irene dying beside me, and I no longer feel guilty”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty. Did anyone notice he’d disappeared?”

“No”

“Then you have nothing to feel guilty about. He destroyed those you loved. He deserved it”

“Thank you, John. Irene would like you”

 

The next Friday, after work, Sherlock and John walked to the local graveyard, Sherlock carrying a dozen red roses. He stopped, and John stood respectfully to the side, watching his father kneel down and place flowers at the base of the gravestone. 

“For you, my love” he murmured. He touched the name, and straightened, beckoning John forward.

“This is John, my adopted son. I finally found someone to keep me out of trouble” he added quietly. John smiled.

“Of course. If I don’t keep you out of trouble, who will?”

“My thoughts precisely” Sherlock murmured. He sighed, and touched the gravestone again.

“Goodbye, Irene, my love”

 

That evening, John heard the quiet sounds of a violin playing downstairs. He listened, and padded down the stairs, listening to the gentle flow of the music. He stopped in the living room doorway, watching his father playing the violin, stood facing the window, his eyes closed. John watched, fascinated. The piece came to a slow, graceful end, and Sherlock lowered the violin, turning around and smiling slightly at John.

“That was beautiful” John whispered.

“Thank you, John. I composed it myself, just after Irene’s death. It’s her song” Sherlock sighed quietly.

“It’s lovely. She would love it, I’m sure”

“She always loved my violin. I play that song once a year, on the anniversary of her death”

“Father?”

“Yes, John?”

“...Never mind” John mumbled. Sherlock set the violin down on the desk and stepped towards him.

“What is it, John? Tell me” the dragon purred quietly. 

“I just wondered if you’d teach me how to play the violin or something”

“Of course I will, John, one day. I don’t mind”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sherlock's birthday!

After breaking up for the summer holidays, John was woken by his phone, and picked it up to find a message from Mycroft.

It’s Sherlock’s 120th birthday. Under your bed I took the liberty of leaving a gift. Cake will be delivered later. If he’s not already up, go and wake him –MH

John crouched down on the floor, peering under the bed. He found a large box, with another note on the top from his uncle.

Inside is a new chemistry set and microscope. Sorry for forgetting to tell you when his birthday was. Also sorry for breaking into your room –MH

John sighed, and went downstairs. He could hear Sherlock snoring in his room, and smiled fondly as he made a cup of tea and prepared Sherlock’s breakfast. He tapped on the bedroom door, balancing the mug and the plate at the same time. There was a grunt from inside.

“Come in John”

John managed to open the door without spilling the tea or dropping the plate, and found Sherlock, still laid in bed, blinking sleepily up at him, the bed sheet tangled around him, his chest bare. John sighed quietly and placed the mug on the side as Sherlock sat up and ran his fingers through his curly hair. John handed him the plate.

“Thanks John. Do I get breakfast in bed every day now?”

“No chance. Just today” John replied, leaving the room again. 

“Where are you going? Come here” Sherlock called. John sighed and went and perched on the edge of the bed.

“Want to do something fun today?” Sherlock asked, chewing his steak. 

“Sure. What did you have in mind?” John asked.

“Hmm... I don’t know. I just think we should spend some time together over the summer, that’s all”

“Of course. It would be nice”

“I’ll think of something”

“Okay. I’ll be back in a minute” John stood, leaving the room. He hurried upstairs, and pulled out the wrapped box. He pulled off Mycroft’s note, and carried the box downstairs. He nudged his way back into Sherlock’s room. Sherlock had finished eating, and was sipping his tea when John walked in. He put the tea down in surprise.

“Happy birthday, father” John grinned, dumping the box on Sherlock’s lap and causing him to laugh.

“I didn’t think you knew.... thank you”

“Of course. Uncle Mycroft told me”

“Of course he did. That brother of mine...” Sherlock shook his head, and tore the wrapping off his present. He grinned at the new chemistry set and microscope.

“Thanks John. I have a feeling Mycroft helped pay for this as well”

“...Yeah, he did”

“Thank you anyway”

“No problem. So what shall we do today?”

“Hmm... fancy going shopping?”

“Um... okay?” John looked confused, and Sherlock laughed.

“Don’t be like that! Shopping with me is fun. Trust me” he winked.

“I always trust you, father”

“Good to hear”

 

Sherlock strode down the street, hands in his coat pockets, humming. John struggled to keep up beside him.

“Can you slow down? You have longer legs than me” he panted. Sherlock whipped around, and waited for John to catch up before slowing his pace slightly.

“Sorry, John. I didn’t mean to leave you behind”

“It’s... its fine”

They started off in the men’s departments of the shops, although they were soon drifting into the women’s sections as well. They got kicked out eventually when John split his sides with laughter when Sherlock strutted out the changing rooms in a full length flower print dress. He was ordered to get changed again, but not after John had snapped several pictures. Sherlock came out a few minutes later, dressed back in his usual outfit, and they were both escorted from the shop. Sherlock smirked.

“Well, that was fun. Where shall we go for lunch?”

“Don’t mind. You should be sticking to your diet”

“Diet. Boring. It’s my birthday, and I should be able to do what I want”

“Does your birthday really still count? I mean, you are 120 years old now”

“Keep your voice down! And it counts if I want it to. Even though I’m not ageing, it’s still my day”

“Sure it is”

 

After lunch, Sherlock and John went for a walk in the park, and were wandering along the path when there was a shout behind them.

“Mr Holmes, Mr Holmes!”

Sherlock spun round, looking for the source of the voice, and sighed when he spotted one of his year seven pupils behind him.

“Hello, Archie” he mumbled slightly warily as Archie’s parents appeared behind him.

“Archie, we said before no talking to strangers” they scolded.

“He’s not a stranger!” Archie protested.

“Ah, I should introduce myself. I’m Mr Holmes, Archie’s science teacher”

“And he’s one of the sixth form people” Archie added, pointing at John, who blushed.

“I’m John” he mumbled.

“John is my adopted son” Sherlock explained in answer to a questioning look from Archie’s parents.

“Right, well, nice to meet you, um, Mr Holmes. And John” they mumbled, ushering Archie away.

“See you in September!” Archie called.

“You’ve got a fan, father” John teased as they continued their walk.

“Hmm”

“Are you okay?” John asked, concerned.

“What? No, no, I’m fine, John” Sherlock replied, pushing his hands in his pockets and shuddering.

“Are you shivering? It’s not cold, and I thought you didn’t get cold anyway” John muttered.

“I don’t get cold.... I... we need to hurry” Sherlock grabbed John’s arm, pulling him along as he ran back home.

“What? Where are we going?” John asked, nearly tripping as he was pulled along. 

“I’m changing now John I don’t know why but I am” his father hissed as they reached the alleyway. He dropped John’s arm, and John stepped back as his father hunched over. He pulled off his coat and scarf and threw them at John. 

“These won’t change with me and I’m rather fond of them” he gasped, and John bit back a laugh as his father grew, folding the coat and scarf neatly into his rucksack and pulling out his phone. 

“I’ll call Uncle Mycroft” he sighed heavily, dialling the number.

“Oh, hello, John. Did you get my message and the present?” his uncle asked.

“Um, yeah, I did, thanks, but that’s not why I’m calling”

“What is it?”

“...Father’s changing”

“Changing? Changing clothes? Did I need to know that?”

“What? No! I meant he’s changing... into a dragon... right now” John looked at his father as two huge wings burst from his back.

“What? That’s impossible... I’m on way, stay with him and for heaven’s sake do not let him fly off anywhere” the line went dead, and the dragon, fully formed, crouched down, and John stepped forward.

“Father? Father, are you alright?” he asked quietly. The dragon made a deep rumbling noise, and John was surprised to see fear in the huge eyes.

“I don’t know, John. I’m scared”

John touched the dragon’s snout comfortingly.

“It’s going to be alright, father” he whispered as Mycroft hurried towards them. He stopped a few feet from the dragon and sighed.

“Oh Sherlock. What have you done this time?” he asked. The dragon growled, turning from scared to irritated at the arrival of his brother.

“If I knew what I had done then I most likely wouldn’t be in this situation right now”

“Have you been following your diet?”

“Of course I have! I’m not an idiot”

“Alright, alright, don’t snap at me. Do you think you can turn back?”

“...I can try, I suppose”

“Think human thoughts”

“Shut up! I know what I’m doing” the dragon snapped before closing his eyes. John watched anxiously as the dragon’s wings retracted into his back, his body gradually shrinking back down. A few minutes later and Sherlock was crouched on the floor, breathing hard. Mycroft touched his shoulder, and was shaken off with a growl.

“Don’t touch me, brother mine. Leave us now” Sherlock hissed. Mycroft nodded and stepped back.

“Call me if anything happens, John” he instructed quietly before turning and walking away. John watched him go before returning his gaze to his father, who had his face in his hands and was making a quiet noise that John realised meant he was crying. He crouched down and touched his father’s shoulder, half expecting to be shaken off with an annoyed growl. Instead, Sherlock’s hand shot up and grabbed John, pulling him down and into Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock buried his face in John’s shoulder and cried. John, unsure of what else to do, patted his back gently. He could feel the heat inside his father and the steady thrum of his heart.

“Father, it’s okay, its fine, I’m here for you” he murmured into his father’s curls.

“John” came the mumbled reply. “John”

“Shhh, its fine, father, I’m here” he murmured again, and Sherlock sniffed and looked up.

“Thank you” he whispered.

“Whatever for?” John asked.

“Bringing me back”

“...I don’t understand”

Sherlock sighed, and stood slowly, pulling John with him. They started walking home, in silence, and it wasn’t until they were back inside that Sherlock said anything.

“You, John Watson, are quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me since Irene’s death. Mycroft’s useless advice of ‘think human thoughts’ is no help to someone like me if there is nothing in their human life to think about. I live two lives, human and dragon. If I had nothing in my human life, then I would become stuck as a dragon, uncontrollable and a murderer until I died. And now... you’re here, in my life. I have a job, and I have a son, two things, incidentally, that I never thought I would have. You keep me human, John”

“Good to hear. I’m glad that I’ve helped you” John murmured as his father pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love you, John, my son”

“Love you too, father” John mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that canonically 6th January is Sherlock's birthday but I wrote this before I knew this.... Sorry


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone from Sherlock's past emerges from the shadows and Sherlock wastes no time in getting his revenge...

John was walking home from school alone one evening because Sherlock had a staff meeting, when he was grabbed by two strong hands. He scrambled, trying to escape, and his kidnapper stuck a needle in his neck, and he slumped to the ground.

“Good, you’ve got the dragon’s brat” a voice muttered.

“Sher-” John mumbled as the world went dark.

 

Sherlock hummed as he walked home, his hands in his pockets. He unlocked the door of 221b, and was greeted by Mrs Hudson hurrying from her downstairs flat.

“Hello Mrs Hudson” he smiled, about to head upstairs.

“Glad I caught you, Sherlock, this came for you, the man said it was urgent” she handed him an envelope and hurried back to her flat. Sherlock frowned, looking at the envelope as he headed upstairs. He pulled off his coat and scarf, flopping in his chair, and examined the envelope. He looked up suddenly, and sniffed the air. John hadn’t been here. He checked his phone and saw no message from John. He frowned, and examined the envelope. It was plain white stationary with his name printed in blue ink on it. He tore it open and read the postcard inside.

I have your son  
I know your secret  
Come to the swimming pool and confess  
Or John will have a fun time swimming with me  
Sherlock swore loudly, jumping to his feet and running from the flat, pulling on his coat as he ran, thundering down the stairs and out the door. 

He took a taxi to the swimming pool, drumming his fingers impatiently on his knees.

“You alright, sir? In a hurry?” the cabbie asked.

“Yes, I am” Sherlock snapped.

“Well, we’re here” the cabbie muttered, pulling to a stop. Sherlock threw some money at the cabbie.

“Keep the change” he grunted, darting from the car and up to the swimming pool entrance. He burst inside and through the changing rooms, leaving his coat hung up. He headed out to the swimming pool, and paused, listening to the water moving. He breathed in deeply, but only caught a vaguely familiar scent in the room as an unfamiliar figure stepped out.

“Well, well. If it isn’t little William” the man crowed. Sherlock growled at the sound of his name.

“My name is not William. Who are you?” he hissed.

“Dear me, I forgot! You’re Sherlock Holmes now, aren’t you? And as for who I am, don’t you recognise me?”

“Why should I recognise you? What have you done to my son?” Sherlock hissed.

“John Watson is not your son, you over grown lizard. And we met, oh, about fifty years ago” the man laughed, and Sherlock suddenly realised where he had smelt this man’s scent before.

“You. You were the ones...” he trailed off as the man laughed again.

“Yes, of course. I was the one that chained you down every night, the one that whipped you, the one that studied you, the one that started the fire to see if you and your pathetic brother were fire proof in human form. I’m Andrew, if you were wondering”

“You killed my parents”

“Well, yes, but they weren’t nearly as interesting as the dragon and the phoenix” Andrew laughed lightly.

“How are you even still alive? You should have died years ago”

“Silly Sherlock. When we first captured you, you spat at me. I collected your saliva because I had heard of the properties dragon saliva possesses. I injected it into my bloodstream, and low and behold, I became immortal. Now, on to more important matters...”

“Bastard. What have you done with John?”

“Ah yes. He’s right here” Andrew hit a button on his watch, and from the ceiling a chain lowered a chair, on which John was tied, bound and gagged, above the water of the swimming pool.

“Now, Mr Holmes. I’ll give you a choice. Change for me so I can continue my experiments on you, or the boy drowns”

“What kind of a choice is that?”

“You’re right, of course. You’re going to change for me, I’m going to experiment on you, and when I’m bored, I’m going to kill you”

“If you think you’re laying your filthy hands on me again, think again”

“Well, that’s unfortunate” Andrew sighed, and was about to press the button that lowered John into the water where he would drown.

“Don’t you dare press that button. What I meant was you cannot experiment on me just yet. I haven’t changed”

“Then do it. Change”

“It’s not something I can turn on and off like a tap, you know. Be patient”

“I was under the impression you could change at will”

“Whatever gave you that impression? I change at a certain time every evening. I can’t control it”

“Your son gave me that impression” Andrew murmured quietly, and Sherlock glanced at John, whose eyes widened, whether to apologise or to indicate fear, he didn’t know.

“Well, John and I will clearly be having a chat later on after I’ve dealt with you. Now tell me, because I am curious, where are the other scientists that experimented on me?”

“Oh, Mr Holmes. There were ten of us. Four died in the fire, regrettably. One died in the middle of the experimentation period after the phoenix ripped his eyes out. Three decided to experiment with your blood and injected it into themselves. One died of old age last year. I am the last one left. Now, you can change, or I will kill your son” he made a move towards the button again, but Sherlock knew he needed more time. He could feel the pains building at the base of his spine. He needed a few minutes at best before he transformed.

“But there’s no need! I can give you answers” he blurted out.

“What kind of answers?”

“Answers... to.... the next chemistry paper?” he hedged, and John rolled his eyes.

“Hmm, no. I would rather have answers to how your kind polluted the earth and how to kill you, personally”

“But I don’t know that. Nobody does” Sherlock mumbled, his eyes flickering towards John again.

“You know, I observed you the whole time, Mr Holmes. You were the most interesting. You never expressed any feelings of care towards anyone, except for your parents and brother. I dealt with your parents, and once I’ve dealt with you, your brother will live no longer. I had your fiancé killed, and for ages I thought you had nobody left in this world to love. But this boy, this human boy you unwittingly made immortal is the only one alive that you love with all your heart”

Sherlock growled under his breath, the pains beginning to tear up and down his spine as he grew slowly.

“You killed my Irene? My child as well?” 

“Why yes, I did” Andrew smirked, seemingly not noticing that Sherlock was growing rapidly, although how he didn’t notice was beyond John. “I will burn the heart out of you, Sherlock, with the death of your adopted son”

Sherlock threw back his head and laughed as his skin melted away and two huge wings burst from his back. 

“Not if I burn you first!” he bellowed as the transformation took full hold and he crouched down, his eyes level with Andrew, his lips pulling back in a snarl.

“Well, well, Mr Holmes. Nice of you to finally comply with my wishes and transform. I must say, you’re certainly bigger than I remember you. Have you put on weight?”

“Do not test me, Andrew”

“Why shouldn’t I? I tortured you before, in fact, I can still see the scars on your wrists from the chains, and I would gladly do it again”

“You may have tortured me then, but I have changed”

“You certainly have my dear lizard. You’ve definitely gotten fatter”

“I no longer fear you. If you were wise, you would fear me”

“Why? Because you killed my ally? The one that stabbed your girlfriend?”

“I regret that deeply”

“Oh, so now you regret killing him?”

“No. Don’t be absurd. I regret not making his death slow and painful. I was too merciful”

“A merciful dragon... who would have thought?”

“I was merciful in that I made his death quick. Yours won’t be”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t kill me, I’m immortal” Andrew spluttered, and the dragon threw his head back and laughed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“You may be immortal. But you aren’t indestructible”

The dragon flicked his claw, and Andrew flew back and landed slumped against the wall, gasping. The dragon then used his claw to snap the chain, and caught John’s chair in his paw, setting him down carefully out of the way.

“Don’t watch” the dragon growled at John. Andrew had staggered to his feet and had grabbed the dragon’s tail, causing him to snarl. He flicked his tail, and Andrew flew through the air and landed on his front in front of the dragon, who placed a single claw on his back, and pressed down, snapping Andrew’s spine clean in two. Andrew gasped, and screamed.

“Do you believe me now?”

Andrew said nothing, and the dragon growled, brushing the tip of his claw against Andrew’s chest.

“Final words, Andrew. You should never mess with me. I am fire. I am death”

“Bastard. You’re a drama queen” Andrew gasped. The dragon growled again, pressing down and scooping out Andrew’s heart with his claw, who gave one huff of air before going still. The dragon dropped the heart back into the body and turning back to John, who was watching wide eyed.

“I told you not to watch” he huffed as he shrank back down. A moment later and Sherlock stepped towards John and removed the gag from his mouth before untying the bonds holding him to the chair. He expected John to be repulsed at what he had done. He did not expect John to throw his arms around him, which is what John did next.

“Father” he gasped, tears running down his cheeks. Sherlock hugged John as well.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” he demanded, and John shook his head numbly. He could see Andrew’s body over Sherlock’s shoulder, blood seeping in a pool around it. Sherlock pulled back and turned to face the body in silence, John stood beside him.

“You couldn’t have made more mess if you’d tried” he muttered, attempting to sound upbeat. Sherlock glanced at him and laughed.

“I’ve just killed someone, and you’re more concerned that I made a mess? Help me tidy up then” he sighed heavily and John found a mop and bucket in the cupboard and started clearing up the blood. Sherlock picked up the body, ignoring the blood that stained his shirt, and carried the body outside to a dumpster. He dumped the body inside, and glanced around, checking the coast was clear before setting the skip contents on fire. He jumped back down and headed back inside, where John was just putting away the mop. 

“That looks better” he remarked, and John spun round.

“What did you do with the body?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Put it in a skip and set it on fire, why?”

“Just wondered”

“John. How many times do I have to say it? I don’t eat people. What, did you think I’d just gone outside to have a snack?”

“I... I didn’t know. Maybe. I just suddenly had a mental image of you going outside and swallowing the body whole”

“Well, I didn’t. I could have done, I must admit it did make me hungry. I didn’t have lunch today. But even though he smelt good, I would not want that disgusting guy inside me”

“Why didn’t you have lunch?”

“I was busy, John, don’t lecture me. Let’s go home” Sherlock huffed and John followed him as he picked up his coat and headed outside, fastening the coat around him as though he were cold.

“Are you cold?” John asked as Sherlock signalled for a taxi.

“No. But I don’t think people will want to see me in a bloodstained shirt” he muttered quietly as they climbed in the taxi and Sherlock gave the address. The ride home was made in silence, and Sherlock paid the driver quickly, heading inside with John following him. He pulled off his bloodstained shirt and threw it in the washing pile before flopping in his chair. John sat down opposite, and Sherlock looked up.

“Oh, sorry, John, do you want me to put something on?”

“What? No, I don’t mind. It’s not so much of a shock now”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am, yeah. You did ask before”

“Sorry. You seem quiet, that was all”

“I’m fine”

“Okay then” Sherlock rested his head back and closed his eyes. John watched him for a minute before standing and perching on the arm of the chair. Sherlock’s eyes snapped open and looked up at John in surprise.

“John?” he asked. John whimpered, and Sherlock stood and hugged him.

“Shhh, John, it’s alright, it’s okay, I’m here”

“I was scared”

“I know, John, I know”

“They drugged me”

“Hmm I know. I smell it in you still, although it’s fading”

“I thought you were going to let him drown me”

“I would never do that, John”

“Are you cross with me?”

“Why on earth would I be cross with you, John?” Sherlock asked, confused.

“... For saying about your powers”

“Oh, that. I don’t care, John. As long as you don’t tell someone that doesn’t already know, then its fine. I appreciate the lie about me having full control over it”

Sherlock went and put John to bed shortly after this, and John watched his father hum quietly as he tucked the duvet in.

“Thank you for saving me”

“Of course I came for you, John, did you really think I would leave you to die?”

“... It crossed my mind” John mumbled.

“Understandable. I would never leave you to get hurt though, John. You’re my son”

“Thank you father”

“Anytime, John”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small Hobbit reference here :)  
> As always, thank you so much for kudos/comments it makes me very happy to know people are enjoying this :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John starts having bad dreams but Sherlock is always there to comfort him... even when someone who closely resembles his deceased fiancé shows up....

For the first time that night, John dreamt about his parents.

They were stood a short distance away, dressed for work as they had been on their way home when they had died. 

“Mum! Dad!” John called, running towards them. Both his parents turned to face him, their smiles quickly turning to looks of horror. When John reached out to embrace his mother, she pushed him away. Confused, he went to hug his dad, only to be pushed away again.

“But... it’s me... it’s John...” he mumbled.

“You are no son of ours for as long as you stay with the freak. You claim our son’s name and yet you are not our son. He has defiled you with ancient magic. You are not our son” they whispered and John snapped awake, sitting bolt upright. It was still dark, and his alarm clock read 2:43 in the morning. He lay down again, rolling onto his side and trying to push away the thought of the dream.

 

In the morning, John had forgotten about his dream until Sherlock walked into the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge for his morning breakfast steaks.

“Hmm we’re running out... I’ll have to pick some up on the way home” he mused as he put two steaks on a plate and sat down opposite John, who had been spreading jam on his toast.

“Good morning to you to” he muttered.

“Sorry, John. Good morning. I didn’t mean to greet you by telling you I’m running out of food”

“Its fine. I’ve got used to you doing strange things”

“Running out of food is not strange”

“No, but the fact that its raw steaks is”

“I can’t help who I am, John”

“I know. And I wouldn’t change who you were or swap you for another home”

“That means a lot to me, thank you”

 

On the way home, Sherlock stopped at the butcher’s as promised with John trailing behind him. Sherlock smiled widely at the man, who grinned back.

“Hey Sherlock. The usual?”

“If you don’t mind”

“You know I don’t mind. Mycroft contacted me ages ago to say your diet had changed slightly. Are the changes helping?”

“Hmm yes. I feel bad about taking all the good stock of meat from you”

“Don’t feel bad. It’s not like you’re stealing it. I’m making no loss in selling it to you than I would selling it to anyone else”

“Of course, how right you are” Sherlock hummed as the butcher sorted out the meat.

“Who’s the lad hiding behind you then, Sherlock?”

Sherlock jumped, and looked around as if expecting to see someone else there. He relaxed when he saw John.

“Oh, this is my adopted son, John. I adopted him about nine months ago”

“Good for you. About time you found a friend”

“Thank you. So if he ever comes in, it will most likely be to purchase stuff for me”

“Of course. I hope you don’t have him running around like your servant”

“Of course I don’t. I don’t need or want a servant. John is my son” Sherlock murmured as the meat was wrapped and placed in a carrier bag.

“Right then, that’s... fifty five quid” the butcher told him and Sherlock pulled out his wallet, flicking through it and handing over some money.

“That’s cheaper than last time. I hope you haven’t reduced the amount” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Course not, Sherlock! Wouldn’t dream of it. I know what you’re like when you get hungry”

“I don’t know what you mean” Sherlock muttered and the butcher laughed, leaning close to speak to John.

“First time I met him was about thirty years ago. He stormed in here and demanded I sold him the biggest steak I had on offer. Shortly after this, I was visited by his brother who explained his condition. He was nicer to me after that”

“I am nice. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but I hadn’t eaten for three days and I was on the verge of ripping someone’s heart out” Sherlock muttered.

“Well, I learnt my lesson that if I didn’t give him what he wanted then there would be trouble. Nice to meet you, lad. Keep him out of trouble”

“He always does keep me out of trouble. Thanks, Angelo” Sherlock grinned.

“No worries, Sherlock. Come back soon”

 

That night, John had another dream.

He was in a dark alleyway, and could hear a crunching sound behind him. He turned around slowly, and saw a figure hunched over another body on the floor. He took a step back, and knocked an empty glass bottle, which rolled away and struck the wall. The figure’s head snapped up, and he turned to face John. John saw it was Sherlock, his eyes blazing and with a set of razor sharp fangs dripping blood. The body on the floor was Molly, John’s oldest and best friend, her heart gone and her body mangled, huge chunks of it missing. He stepped towards John, licking his lips slowly and hungrily.

“Fresh meat” he hissed in an inhuman voice that caused John to shiver. He turned to run, and had taken a few paces when he was struck to the ground, a heavy weight pressing him down as he felt hot breath against the side of his neck.

“Stay with me for a bite to eat” the voice hissed in his ear, familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. There was a searing pain in his neck, and he screamed.

John screamed, thrashing against the bed sheets, tangling himself up. He fell to the floor with a thud, and stayed there, frozen in shock. The bedroom door flew open, and Sherlock stumbled inside.

“John?” he asked, approaching John where he was still tangled in his sheets on the floor. He crouched down, reaching out to John, who jerked back away from him.

“Get away from me” he mumbled. Sherlock ignored this and reached out to him again.

“John, what is it?” he asked quietly. John gave a yelp as Sherlock’s hand brushed his shoulder, and he scrambled away to the corner, hugging his knees.

“Get away from me monster” he mumbled. Sherlock stiffened.

“What did you call me?” he asked in a whisper.

“Monster. Murderer. Creature. Freak. Monster that wants to kill me” John mumbled into his knees.

“I... John, I would never hurt you”

“Liar”

“John, please, believe me, I would never want to hurt you”

“Killed her... you killed her... Murderer” John whimpered.

“Who? Killed who?”

“Molly... my friend... you killed her... monster”

“Molly? I never lay a finger on her! What are you talking about John?”

“Monster...”

“Where’s the monster, John?”

“You... you are the monster...”

“Do I look like a monster?”

“Big teeth...”

“I haven’t got big teeth”

John whimpered. He wasn’t even looking at Sherlock, but he remembered how his father had looked, his eyes hungry and blood smeared around his mouth. He couldn’t rid himself of the image, and he let out a cry, calling for the one person who could help him, Sherlock himself.

“Father...”

“Yes, John?”

“I need you father, Sherlock, I need you”

“I’m right here, John”

“Father...”

“John, look at me” Sherlock had moved and was sat in front of John, but had made no move to touch him again. John raised his tear-stained face, and saw Sherlock sat there, his face full of concern, his teeth a regular size and shape, not the razor fangs John had pictured. His eyes were their usual intelligent grey, and John whimpered, holding his arms out. Sherlock sighed, and pulled John towards him, hugging him.

“Did you have a nightmare, John? Is that what this is about?” he asked gently, and John nodded, burying his face in Sherlock’s shoulder.

“You... monster... killed Molly and attacked me...” he mumbled.

“Shhh its alright, John, its alright, it wasn’t real”

“It felt real... it looked real...”

“Shhh. If it was real, how come you were in bed? Unless it took place in this room”

“Outside in an alleyway...”

“There you go. It wasn’t real, John”

“Scared”

“Of what? Tell me”

“... You were scary” John mumbled.

“I’m sorry”

“Not scary now”

“No. No more scary monster. Now, do you want to go back to bed?”

“... Monster might come back”

“The monster won’t come back. I’ll make sure of it” Sherlock told him, lifting John up and setting him back on the bed, where he flopped back with his head in the pillows. Sherlock picked up the duvet and wrapped it around John gently, before sitting on the edge of the bed and touching John’s forehead.

“Goodnight, John”

“Goodnight” John mumbled with a yawn. Sherlock watched John’s eyes drift shut, before moving to sit in the armchair in the corner, his fingers beneath his chin. He thought about what John had said. He had clearly been half asleep still, but the fact that John had had a nightmare where he had been a murderous monster didn’t help. Sherlock had been called many things over the years, in fact, he had been frequently called a monster, and it had never really bothered him. He knew what he was, but hearing John call him a murderer, a freak and a monster had hurt him a lot.

 

John woke up in the morning to find Sherlock had fallen asleep in the armchair in the corner. He was confused for a moment as to why Sherlock was there, when memories of the previous night flooded back. He remembered the nightmare, he remembered insulting Sherlock and calling him a monster, and he remembered Sherlock comforting him and putting him back to bed. He slid out of bed and padded across the room, and touched Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Father?” he asked. Sherlock gave a quiet grunt, and opened his eyes slowly. 

“John. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep... is everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you”

“Alright. What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked, stretching.

“About last night... I’m sorry”

“Its fine, John, really, no need to apologise. You had a nightmare, and you got scared, it’s completely understandable”

“Not that bit”

“Then what?” Sherlock asked. John could see how tired he looked and the slight hint of sadness in his eyes.

“I called you a monster. I’m sorry. I never meant to... I wasn’t thinking straight... I don’t think you’re a monster”

“... Thank you, John. I forgive you. Now, let’s go and get breakfast, yes? If you’re still not happy, I’ll eat in my room. I don’t want you to feel any more upset than necessary”

“No, no, it’s fine, honestly” John mumbled as they headed down to the kitchen.

“If you ever have any problems, John, regarding my.... condition, please do not be afraid to tell me. I don’t mind” Sherlock sighed as he pulled out a couple of steaks. 

“I won’t. It’s all fine, father, I don’t mind”

“Hmm you seemed pretty shaken last night though...” Sherlock mused as he munched the steak.

“I had just witnessed you rip my best friend apart and then pounce on me... sort of”

“Hmm. I would never do that, John”

“You were hungry”

“My apologies, John. I’ve never gotten hungry enough that I’ve wanted to snack on somebody”

“Good to hear”

“Hmm. Hey, I just remembered. It’s the sixth form open evening tomorrow, and I’m ah, representing the chemistry subject. Want to help out?”

“Sure, I’ll help. What about you, though?”

“What about me?”

“Well, aren’t you going to need to change?”

“Hmm I did think of that. I can force myself to change back into a human, but not the other way round. I don’t know why. Maybe I’ll control it completely eventually. I get a twenty minute break. I’ll fly a little, turn back and no one will know”

“I’ll know”

“Yeah, but you don’t count”

“Thanks”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant you don’t count because you already know about my other self”

“I know, I’m teasing”

 

Just into the start of the open evening, Sherlock pulled John aside.

“I’m going to have to go now... I won’t be long, okay? Anyone comes, tell them how great chemistry is and that I’ve just gone... somewhere”

“Okay. See you soon” John smiled as Sherlock hurried from the room. The open evening had only started ten minutes ago, and the parents were still in a talk in the hall for the next few minutes before people started looking at subjects. He looked around the room that had been his tutor room for years, and sighed. He remembered the previous teacher, Mr Wilson, had had an addiction to bow ties and classical music. He hadn’t said why he was leaving, but as soon as they found out they were getting a ‘Mr Holmes’ as their new tutor, people started speculating what the new teacher was like. John shook himself from the memory as some parents walked in with their daughter.

“Hello” the mother smiled at John, who smiled back politely.

“Hi. My name’s John, and I’m one of the sixth form students taking Chemistry”

“Oh. I thought that one of the teachers would be here...” she trailed off.

“Ah, yeah. He just nipped out for a few minutes, he’ll be back soon” John mumbled. No sooner had he said this than the door burst open and Sherlock strode in, fastening the buttons on his jacket. He smiled widely at the couple and their daughter, and held his hand out.

“Mr Holmes, chemistry A-level teacher” he grinned. “Apologies for my absence, but I had a small errand to run in the science office”

“Um... that’s fine, Mr... er...”

“Mr Holmes. So, you’re thinking about taking chemistry?” he asked the girl, who jumped slightly and nodded.

“Good, good. What would you like to know about the course?”

John stepped back and watched his father talking and making wide gestures with his hands, and shook his head slightly. Sherlock ended his talk with a smile and the family left. The instant the door shut, Sherlock whirled around to face John. 

“You alright, John? Did I miss much?” he asked.

“I’m fine. They were the first ones that came in. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Quick flight and I managed to change back. Sorry I left you”

“It’s fine” John assured him as a young woman came in with her daughter. Sherlock turned around, smiling, but froze when his eyes fixed on the woman, his mouth dropping open. She stared at him, confused, and he blinked, snapping himself from his daze. He stepped forward, smiling again, his hand outstretched.

“Hello there, my name is Mr Holmes, and I’m one of the chemistry teachers here. This is John, one of my students, who kindly agreed to help me this evening”

“Didn’t have much choice” John muttered under his breath, but nobody heard him except Sherlock, who chose to ignore him.

“What would you like to know?”

“Um, well, I heard that there’s a support session for those who only achieve B grades if you take Biology, is that the same for Chemistry?”

“Yes, it is. A-level science is typically known to be harder than GCSE science. I run the support sessions for chemistry every Thursday after school for an hour in here. John is one of my frequent visitors, although he is not obligated to attend every week”

“What are the support sessions like?”

“John? Care to answer this one?” Sherlock asked, turning and smiling at John, who nodded and stepped forward beside Sherlock.

“Yes, sorry. The sessions are quite useful, and we sort of go over things covered in lessons and Sir will help with any homework and stuff. It’s more laid back and relaxed than a normal lesson”

“Do you struggle with the amounts of homework, John?”

“Um, well, no, not really. I mean, for chemistry we get set an hour a week from each of the two teachers. Although Sir’s tends to be more difficult than my other teacher’s work, but I can’t complain. My father is very good at chemistry after all, and he’s always happy to help me” John smirked, glancing at Sherlock who smirked back at him. The woman and her daughter looked at each other and smiled.

“I think that’s all of the questions... thank you, John, and Mr Holmes” she smiled before she shook Sherlock’s hand again.

“Pleasure is all mine” he murmured quietly as they left. The moment the door shut, Sherlock slumped against one of the tables.

“Father? What is it?” John asked.

“My God, John... that woman... spitting image of my Irene... but it can’t be her”

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence”

“Hmm yeah...”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, John”

 

John had yet another bad dream that night.

“Father! Father!” he shouted, running towards the dragon, who had fallen on his side in the alley, a huge arrow piercing his chest. The dragon rumbled deeply as John approached.

“John. I’m... sorry”

“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it? You can heal yourself?” John asked, panicked.

“I can’t heal from this. I’m bleeding internally. I’m so sorry”

“Father, I love you” John choked out, hugging the dragon’s snout. He felt the dragon’s hot breath.

“As I love you, John, my son. Goodbye John”

With one final huff of air, the dragon closed his eyes and went still. John hugged him and wept.

 

John woke up with a start, tears on his face, and shuddered. He padded downstairs and tapped on the door of Sherlock’s room. There was a pause, and the door opened.

“John? It’s one in the morning... what’s wrong?” Sherlock asked with a yawn, his hair a mess. John hugged him, and he stumbled slightly, surprised. 

“John? What is it?”

“I had a bad dream”

“Oh. Want to talk about it?”

“... You died”

Sherlock fell silent for a moment, thinking this through, before smiling to himself.

“Glad to know I mean that much to you” he murmured. "I love you too, my boy"


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious figure resembling Irene appears again and Sherlock needs John with him to help him through this difficult experience

A couple of weeks later, and Sherlock sighed as he rooted around the fridge.

“John, I’ve got a staff meeting and I’m running out again. If I write you a list and give you some money do you think you could stop by the butchers on the way home?” he asked, closing the fridge.

“Sure” John grinned and Sherlock smiled in return, finding a scrap of paper and writing several items down.

“Hmm I might treat myself this month”

“Oh yeah? To what?” John asked with a smirk. 

“Nice brisket” Sherlock mused as he finished writing the list. He then pulled out his wallet and started sorting out money. John couldn’t help but notice the photo on display in the wallet of himself and Sherlock together.

“Ah, there we go. It’s usually around sixty pounds”

“Sixty quid on meat? Really?” John asked, putting the money and list in his own wallet.

“Hmm. It’s not that bad, really. Lasts me about two weeks”

“So you spend over a hundred quid a month on meat?”

“I don’t eat anything else, John”

“Alright, alright, fine”

“Thank you”

 

John headed into the butchers, which was empty. The butcher, Angelo, looked up.

“Hey, aren’t you Sherlock’s kid?” he asked

“Yeah, I am. I’m John. He’s at a meeting so he sent me instead” John replied, handing over the list.

“He’s a nice guy, Sherlock. I see him sometimes at night, flying around. What’s he like as a dad?”

“He’s great. He cares, and he always listens to me” John smiled.

“Glad he’s happy. It’s weird, I’ve known him at least thirty years and of course he doesn’t age so he looks the same...”

“Yeah, that must be weird. I know you said he came storming in, but what was he like when you met him?” John asked.

“Always so abrupt, but then he cheered up for ages, smiling and happy and laughing. Then he looked... depressed, like he’d lost someone. He was miserable for ages. Then he cheered up. And then you show up, and he’s happier now than I’ve seen him in years” Angelo sighed, packing everything into a carrier bag. “What’s this about a brisket, as well though? That’s not on his usual order” 

“Yeah, he said he was going to treat himself”

“Hmm. Fifty seven pounds then” Angelo frowned slightly and John handed him the money. 

“He said it was usually sixty pounds...”

“Hmm. I always give him a slight discount, but don’t tell him that. Our little secret, yeah?”

“Sure. Thank you” John smiled warmly as Angelo handed him the carrier bag.

“No problem, kid. Tell Sherlock I said hi, will you?”

“Will do. Thanks again”

 

Sherlock came home to find John packing the meat into the fridge. He picked up the receipt and change left on the table.

“Fifty seven pounds, really?” he asked, and John nodded, closing the fridge and turning round.

“Yeah. He said hi”

“Nice guy, Angelo. Always understanding” Sherlock mused before handing the change to John.

“You can keep this”

“Um... thanks?”

“No need to seem surprised, John. If you ever want to go out with some friends and haven’t got any money, let me know”

“You’d give me a loan?”

“I’d give you the money and not expect to be paid back. Being immortal and not requiring much means I have a rather large amount saved in the bank with my name on it”

“How long have you been teaching?”

“Not long. I had a lot saved up anyway. My monthly pay check gets split between the electric company, the gas company and Mrs Hudson, usually. Oh, and the broadband provider. And my phone company”

“Um... thanks for sharing that with me... I think...”

“Sorry. I doubt you really wanted to hear about my bills”

“It’s fine”

“Thank you anyway, for going to the butchers”

“No problem. I don’t mind”

 

“Excuse me? Are you John Watson?” a quiet voice asked one day, and John spun round to see the girl from the open evening.

“Yeah, I am. Is everything okay?”

“I... I’m Jo”

“Hi Jo. You alright?” John asked again.

“Are you really Mr Holmes’ adopted son?” she asked, and he laughed.

“Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Um... sure. He’ll be in his room”

“Can you come with me? I... I don’t want to go on my own” Jo mumbled. John sighed.

“Sure, okay” he beckoned to her to the science department. He glanced through the door and saw he was still eating his lunch, and flinched.

“Might be best if you wait a minute. He’s um... busy, and it’s usually um... best not to disturb him” John mumbled, desperately hoping he could stall Jo long enough for Sherlock to finish eating. She tried to peer round him.

“What’s he doing?” she asked.

“Erm...” John cursed himself for not coming up with an excuse, so he quickly changed topic. “What do you want to see him for?”

“My mum had a message to pass onto him”

“Oh. Okay. He’ll erm... probably erm... I could give it to him later, if you like. There’s no telling how long he’ll be”

“Oh, no, it’s alright, I don’t mind. Besides, it’s kind of private”

“Right, okay, of course. Sorry”

“Are you two going to spend all afternoon gossiping outside my door?” a deep voice asked, and they both spun round to see Sherlock leaning casually against the door frame. He smirked. “If you wanted to come in, you could have knocked”

“Sorry sir” Jo mumbled. He shook his head.

“It’s fine. Come in then, if you want to see me” he turned and strode back into the room. Jo hurried after him, followed by John as Sherlock reclined in his desk chair.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Um... my mum asked me to give you this” Jo mumbled, pulling out an envelope from her pocket and handing it to Sherlock. He looked surprised, but smiled and opened it whilst Jo and John watched slightly nervously. Sherlock scanned the letter, and sighed.

“Tell your mum that’s fine by me” he murmured quietly. Jo nodded, looking slightly relieved, and hurried from the room. Sherlock returned his attention to his laptop.

“What was that?” John asked.

“... Private. I expect your company on Saturday though”

“You expect my company for something you can’t tell me about?”

“Yes, exactly” Sherlock muttered. He was clearly distracted.

“I might have had plans”

“I know you don’t, so don’t give me that”

“Sorry, father. Of course I’ll come with you”

“Excellent. No more questions about it, please. All will become clear on Saturday, hopefully”

“Right” John turned to leave.

“Oh, and I’m finishing normal time today, if you wanted to walk home”

“Sure. I’ll see you later”

“See you, John”

 

That Saturday, John was slightly apprehensive when Sherlock wandered into the kitchen, humming.

“Good morning, John” he flashed a smile.

“Morning father”

“How are you today?”

“I’m... good. Yourself?”

“Good. Don’t forget, we’re going out in an hour”

“Right, okay. Is that why you’re in a good mood?”

“I’m always in a good mood, John”

“You’re not usually this bright on a Saturday morning. That’s what I meant”

“Hmm I suppose not. Never mind”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” John asked, hoping for an answer.

“...Out?” Sherlock replied, smirking.

“Still not going to say?”

“Soon, John”

“Please?” John asked, giving Sherlock the sad eyes, causing his father to sigh.

“Fine. We’re going to a cafe and meeting up with that girl’s mum”

“Why?”

“Because she asked to meet me, and I think you should come as well”

“Fair enough”

 

Sherlock and John arrived at the cafe early, and sat by the window, Sherlock drumming his fingers on the table.

“Calm down” John hissed.

“Hmm?”

“You’re making people stare. Stop tapping” John muttered and Sherlock huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets instead as the door opened and Jo’s mum walked in. Sherlock stood, smiling, and held out his hand.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Mr Holmes. I’m Louise” she mumbled quietly.

“Not a problem. This is my son, John, by the way” Sherlock added, gesturing to John as they sat down. 

“Nice to meet you, John. Jo’s talked about you”

“What can I do for you?” Sherlock asked with a smile.

“I recognised you, Mr Holmes, at the open evening, and I could tell you recognised me as well, or if not you thought you saw someone similar”

“I confess I did, yes. My mistake”

“Not a mistake at all, Mr Holmes. Or should I say Sherlock? I know who you are. I know what you are as well”

“... Who are you, then? I thought you looked a lot like my Irene, but that’s impossible”

“I knew Irene as well. She was my sister. You were engaged, weren’t you? She always spoke highly of you”

Sherlock blinked rapidly for a moment, too shocked to speak. He swallowed slightly.

“Yes, we were engaged. She... she was killed a week before the wedding was due to take place” he mumbled.

“I wanted to see you because I was going through her things the other day, and I found this” she trailed off, handing Sherlock a fabric bound book. He took it, and turned it over in his hands before bringing it to his face and smelling it.

“It still smells like her...” he whispered. Louise blinked.

“I forgot you had an enhanced sense of smell. I was the unlucky one of the family that doesn’t transform. I’m just immortal”

“I... thank you” he murmured, cradling the book carefully. 

“I’d better be going. Nice to finally meet you and have a proper chat, Mr Holmes. Nice to meet you too, John” she murmured quietly, standing up and hurrying away, leaving Sherlock gaping after her. He looked back down at the book.

“This is her diary. I’m sure it is” he whispered. John sighed.

“Are you going to read it?” he asked quietly.

“... I think so. At home. With you”

“Me? Why would you want to share it with me?”

“You’re an important part of my life, John. You deserve to know the truth. Irene wouldn’t have minded me sharing her diary contents with you”

“Okay. Shall we head home then?”

 

Sherlock was silent the whole walk back, stroking the book he held in his pocket. The moment they were inside, he pulled off his coat and scarf and sat on the sofa with the diary, signalling for John to sit beside him. He opened it to the first page.

Dear diary  
I met someone today. The dragon that people keep going on about. I found him. He’s very nice. He’s like me. I think I annoyed him by following him though.  
He told me his name was Sherlock. He’s quite a handsome dragon, really. Not a scary monster that people think he is

Dear diary  
I met Sherlock again. He told me his brother turns into a phoenix like me. I noticed these scars around his wrist, but I didn’t want to ask in case he got upset. He’s a very impressive dragon. I’ve only ever met one other man who could turn into a dragon. Sherlock’s much nicer, even though I still haven’t met his human form.

Dear diary  
Sherlock asked why I was following him. He asked if I was stalking him.  
Of course I’m not. I told him that he was a nice person to be around. I don’t think he believed me, but he did sort of smile. Well, he showed me his fangs. That could have either been a smile or him thinking ‘what a tasty looking phoenix’  
I’m going for the first option.

Dear diary  
Sherlock agreed with me that we should meet in human form, so I stayed with him longer than normal. He warned me that he was an ugly human.   
Well he got that wrong. He’s bloody gorgeous.  
Seriously. He seemed surprised when I told him he was wrong.   
He’s got these really pretty grey eyes, dark curly hair and cheekbones to die for. He told me I was beautiful as well. He did look taken aback by my human appearance. Even though he said otherwise, he probably thought I was ugly. Oh well. He was ever so polite to me, and walked me home again like a true gentleman.

Dear diary  
I’m so excited I can hardly write  
Today, after we turned back, Sherlock walked me home again. I kept looking at him out of the corner of my eye. He caught me watching him, and looked away. I felt all embarrassed then.  
But when we stopped at my door, he took my hand and smiled at me before saying  
“Thank you for being my friend” in this really quiet voice that was so attractive I nearly fainted.  
And then he kissed me.  
I am not joking. He kissed me. Full on the mouth, proper kiss.   
It was wonderful

The next entry was three months later. John glanced at Sherlock, but his expression was unreadable.  
Dear diary  
I’m sooooo sorry I haven’t written anything! But so much has happened, but the best thing happened today.  
Sherlock asked me out. On a date. With him. Just the two of us. As a romantic couple.   
Me. I got a date. With Sherlock Holmes. His brother told me that was a near on impossible thing to do with Sherlock.  
But I have a date. With a handsome man/dragon.  
I think I’m in love

Dear diary  
Best. Date. Ever.  
Sherlock was so amazing! He was a true gentleman and organised the whole thing. I mean, yeah, we had to have our date during the day rather than in the evening like other couples. But I loved it.  
He turned up on my doorstep late this morning with a bouquet of red roses, and then took me for lunch and a walk through the park. We stopped to listen to the band playing as well. He told me he played violin.   
He took me home again, and then he did this really cute sort of half smile thing, and whispered  
“I love you” in this really quiet voice before kissing me.  
It was a dream come true

Dear diary  
Oh my God I don’t know what I’m going to do. Sherlock and I... spent the night together at his flat the other week. In the same bed. You get my meaning.   
I’m pregnant.  
I just took the test... and I’m pregnant.  
It’s only been a week... I’ll give it another week or so before I tell Sherlock. He’s going to be so mad... like the time he lost his book and started throwing things around the room and breathing fire all over the place. At least he didn’t set the book on fire

Dear diary  
I can’t believe it.   
I am in shock.  
Sherlock proposed to me. He actually got down on one knee, and held out the most beautiful diamond ring imaginable. And asked for my hand in marriage.  
I accepted, of course I did.   
The only thing is now I know I definitely have to tell him that I’m pregnant. I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed that I’ve stopped accompanying him at night. I’ve stopped changing whilst pregnant.  
I’ll go and tell him tomorrow

Dear diary  
That went better than I expected. I told him I was pregnant and at first I was afraid because he sort of froze and didn’t move for about ten minutes. Just sat there staring into space. Then he demanded to know if I was alright. I told him I was fine, and he cried and hugged me. He said he’d always wanted to be a father. He also said it didn’t matter if it was a boy or girl, but he would prefer a son, someone he could play games with and teach things to and just someone to look up to him as a father.  
He also said that we’d be a perfect family.

Dear diary  
Sherlock and I are getting married next week! I’m about seven months through the pregnancy, so the dress has had to be altered to fit. I can feel the baby kicking occasionally. Sometimes the bump grows warm like there’s a flame inside. I wonder if that means I’m going to have a son who’s full of fire like his dad.  
Oh, I should be going. Whilst I can’t change and fly, I still meet Sherlock the dragon in the alley around the corner. He sort of curls up and I talk to him. Like a pet, almost. A big giant fire breathing pet that I trust with my life and the life of my unborn child.  
He always seemed so lonely, flying around at night. That’s partly why I joined him. He looked like he needed a friend.  
My only hope is that if something were to happen to me that he doesn’t live out the rest of his existence entirely alone or isolated. He doesn’t deserve that.

The diary ended there, and Sherlock stared at the last few words written by Irene less than an hour before her death. John tugged the diary from his hands and placed it on the side as Sherlock began to tremble, tears running down his cheeks. John put his arms around him, holding his crying father gently.

“Shhh... father, it’s okay, I’m here for you, shhh” he murmured. 

“Oh John. You always keep me right” Sherlock whispered, patting his son’s back gently.

“I’ll always be here for you, father”

“Irene would think you’re brilliant”

“I hope so”

 

John was woken at three in the morning by Sherlock knocking on his door. He sighed and stood up and went and opened it, still half asleep. Sherlock entered and hugged John.

“Father? Is something wrong?” John asked, fully awake now. Sherlock whimpered. “Father?”

“Oh John thank goodness”

“What is it?”

“You died in my arms... I’d thought I’d killed you... I’m so sorry” Sherlock mumbled. John patted his back awkwardly.

“I think you just had a bad dream, father. It wasn’t real, you didn’t hurt me”

“I’m sorry I’m a monster”

“Shhh you aren’t a monster, father”

“I am, I am”

“No you aren’t”

“I’ve killed people”

“Father. Look at me” John murmured quietly, trying to replicate the dragon’s commanding voice and failing as Sherlock continued to weep into his shoulder.

“Sherlock Holmes will you look at me?” John demanded, and Sherlock looked up in surprise at hearing his full name. “You are not a monster, Sherlock. Yes, you turn into a dragon every night. Yes, you’ve killed two people. They weren’t very nice people though, and they took away those you loved. You are not a monster, and I will not be happy if you dare to say that again, do you understand?”

“...Yes John”

“Good. Now go back to bed”

“Okay. Sorry to wake you”

“It’s fine”

“... Thank you John”

“Anytime, father”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock divulges more of his past

There was a knock at the door one lunchtime. Sherlock swallowed his steak and wiped his hands.

“Come in” he called, expecting it to be John. The door opened and a tall blonde boy walked in, followed by a slightly shorter boy with brown hair. Sherlock stood, frowning slightly.

“What can I do for you, Jason and Bailey?” he asked. Jason, the blonde, jerked his head, signalling Bailey forward. Bailey stepped forward and grabbed Sherlock’s wrists, pulling them behind his back.

“Ah, I see. Going to beat me up are you?” Sherlock asked.

“Maybe we are”

“I would strongly advise against it”

“And why would that be?” Bailey asked, tying Sherlock’s wrists together. He felt the slight twinge as they rope rubbed his scarred wrists. “Are we going to get in trouble? Going to be a big blabber mouth?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, yeah, I’ll get you excluded at least for this. But I was actually thinking about your own safety rather than my own”

“Well then, if you are going to insist on being a blabber mouth, we’ll kill you instead” Jason grunted.

“Oh, well I’ll definitely get you expelled. Again, I wouldn’t advice trying it”

“That’s because you’re a wuss”

“I’m really not. I think you’ll find I have a high pain threshold”

“Yeah right. Bailey, cut him” Jason ordered. Bailey pulled out a pocket knife and stroked it teasingly against Sherlock’s scarred wrists.

“It even looks like he’s mapped out where to cut! Fan of self harming, sir?”

“Those are not self harm scars” Sherlock whispered quietly. He felt the blade cut through his skin, and he sighed. The pain was nothing, and he suddenly hoped the boys didn’t collect his blood or something.

Jason strode forward and smacked Sherlock across the face. He returned his gaze to the boy, unfazed.

“I would recommend that you stop with your feeble attempts at causing me harm” Sherlock sighed quietly.

“Woah! He’s stopped bleeding!” Bailey exclaimed. He sliced the knife deeper into Sherlock’s wrists, letting the blood drip to the floor in a steady trickle. Jason punched Sherlock squarely in the mouth, splitting his lip. He flinched, and massaged his knuckles.

“I suggest you stop now. You may have tied my hands but I’m still capable of hurting you unless you back down now”

“Yeah right. What can you do about it, freak?”

“Last chance”

“Whatever. We’ll just go and beat up your Johnny boy instead” Bailey muttered, turning away with a smirk, only to be kicked in the back by Sherlock, causing him to stumble forward into Jason. They both spun round in surprise. Sherlock took a step towards them calmly, his wrists still tied behind his back. 

“Now, are you going to leave me and my son alone?” he asked quietly.

“Like hell we are” Jason spat.

“Then you asked for it” Sherlock pulled himself free from the rope, and stepped towards them.

“He’s stopped bleeding again, look, the cuts are healing”

“Yes, funny that. Never thought I was strange? Never thought I was... different from the other teachers?” Sherlock asked mockingly.

“What the hell is wrong with your eyes you freak?”

“Is that the best insult you can come up with?” Sherlock asked. Jason looked at Bailey, who stared back. They both turned and ran for the door, but Sherlock was quicker, reaching the door and slamming it shut again.

“Not so fast. I haven’t finished”

“What the hell do you want now?”

“I’m going to ask you nicely to do something, and you will do it”

“Oh will we?”

“Yes. You will” Sherlock smirked to himself.

“What is it then?”

“It’s simple, really. You are going to leave me alone. You will not harm either myself or John Watson ever again, do you understand?”

“Yes”

“Good. Because that dragon that you see flying around London? I know him. If you go back on what you just said, he will burn you into ash. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes sir”

“Oh, and you will not tell anyone what transpired in here today, understood?”

“Yes”

“Now get out” Sherlock opened the door, and the two boys tripped over each other trying to get away. Sherlock headed back to his desk, chuckling to himself. A moment later and John came in.

“Are you alright? I just saw Jason and Bailey leaving here looking like they’d seen a ghost...” he trailed off. “Hang on, is that blood on the floor?” he asked, staring. Sherlock flinched.

“Ah yes” he muttered, crouching down to wipe up the blood.

“Who’s blood is it?”

“Mine, of course”

“Yours? What were you doing in here?” John demanded as Sherlock stood and threw the cloth in the bin. 

“Oh, Jason and Bailey thought they’d come and beat me up. They tied my wrists together, cut my wrists, punched me a couple of times before realising it wouldn’t work. They got the message”

“They cut your wrists?” John demanded, stepping closer and snatching Sherlock’s arm to look. The cuts were thin, fading rapidly, but still slightly visible amongst the torture scars.

“I heal fast” Sherlock murmured, amused. 

“Then how come you still have these scars?” John asked, brushing his fingers lightly across the scars.

“Hmm. Those will never heal. They tortured me for too long”

“Do they hurt? Like me touching them, does it hurt?” John asked.

“No, it’s fine. It takes a bit more than your light touch to make them hurt”

“Okay, good. Are you alright though?”

“Perfectly fine, John. Did you really think I was incapable of dealing with two teenage boys on my own?”

“Guess not. As long as you’re alright”

“I’m fine, stop fussing. I’ll meet you here later, yeah?”

“Sure. See you later”

 

“Father...” John paused as they walked home.

“Hmm?” Sherlock responded.

“How did they torture you? Those scientists” John asked, and Sherlock breathed in sharply.

“It’s difficult to torture a dragon with impregnable scales, which they discovered quickly. So, during the day, when I was in human form, they tied me down, cut me and whipped me. Andrew was always the one doing the torturing. He seemed to like the sound of my screams. You haven’t seen my back, have you? There are more scars there”

“No, I haven’t. But what did they do at night when you transformed?”

“Well, as soon as I started to grow, they would fasten these shackles around my wrists and ankles, tying me to the ground. I would grow into the shackles, which were tight for my dragon form, thus rubbing the cuts and preventing them from healing. They would all put on fire proof suits after I had tried to set them on fire one time. I still breathed fire on them, because I knew that given enough time, the suits would burn eventually. It never worked because they were too quick. They usually spray water down my throat and nearly choke me. There was one thing that would actually harm me in dragon form”

“Which was?”

“Acid. They would throw huge vats of acid over me. It would seep beneath my scales and burn the skin underneath. The pain... was unimaginable. But my skin would heal from the acid, only to be whipped bloody the next day. It was Andrew’s favourite ritual. He’s come in the morning, make sure I was tied securely against the wall, and then strike the whip across my back. “Come on Mr Holmes, I want to hear you scream” he would say. It wasn’t until around the fiftieth lash that I would make a noise, because I was getting used to it. I would scream, and he would laugh. “That’s more like it. Not such a scary dragon now, are you?” he would say. After awhile, he would get bored with whipping me. He’d draw a knife instead and slice my wrists, collecting my blood in beakers. “There’s a good dragon. We need your blood for some more experiments. We need to find out what weaknesses you have. And then we’ll be able to kill you! Won’t that be fun?” he would tease me constantly. As soon as the cuts healed, he would re-open them again. Then, I would transform, and he would watch eagerly. He nearly drowned me with the water once because I had set his foot on fire. Then came the acid. It was a never ending cycle. One night, he even forced me to swallow some of the acid, just to see if it had an effect. It burnt my insides, but didn’t kill me, although I don’t know how” Sherlock murmured quietly as they reached the flat. John had listened to him in silence, and was looking at him with concern.

“I told you his death was justified. I don’t care if you turn into a dragon. You’re still human to me”

“Thank you, John”

“Can I see?”

“See what?”

“Your scars”

“Oh. Okay” Sherlock sighed. He stood, pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. John watched him shrug off the shirt, and he stood. He looked at Sherlock’s back, which was a pattern of pale white scars. John reached out and gently ran his fingers over the scars.

“Tell me if it hurts” he whispered. Sherlock breathed out.

“It’s fine, they don’t hurt” he assured John.

“Thank you for showing me” John mumbled, stepping back. Sherlock pulled his shirt back on and started fastening the buttons.

“No problem”

“Every time you show me something like that, I feel like I’m getting to know you better”

 

In the middle of his maths lesson, John received a text message. He never usually received messages in class. Checking the teacher was looking the other way, he looked at his phone under the table.

Come quick. Something’s wrong with Mr Holmes –M

It was Molly texting him, and he flinched, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes till the end of the day. He put his hand up.

“Yes, John?” Mr Mason asked.

“Sorry, Sir, I have to go to mentoring now”

“Hmm okay. Don’t forget your homework”

John stood, picked up his bag and shoved his maths book inside, hurrying from the room. He ran down to the science department, and without knocking burst into his tutor room. The A level class were talking loudly, throwing pens at each other. Molly hurried towards him and grabbed his arm.

“Thank goodness, John, I think Sir’s hurt...” she trailed off, and John saw Sherlock crouched in the corner behind his desk, his eyes tightly shut and his hands clamped over his ears. John noticed the back of his shirt was soaking wet.

“What happened? Why’s he wet?” he asked Molly, who flinched.

“Bailey threw acid at him, I think” she mumbled, and John swore loudly.

“Keep people away from him, do you understand?”

“What is it?”

“He... has a... history with acid... I think he had a panic attack... it’s fine, Molly, I’ll look after him” he muttered and Molly nodded, turning away to make sure nobody disturbed him. He crouched down, and touched Sherlock’s arm, causing him to jerk away from him. John ignored this and gripped Sherlock’s arms, pulling them away from his head. Sherlock gave a cry, and wrenched his arms from John’s grip. The bell rang, and the class left, except for Molly, who glanced back at John.

“Go, Molly, its fine. Thank you for letting me know” he smiled slightly and she nodded again before she left. John managed to carefully start unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt, and slid it from his shoulders. He had thought he was prepared for what he might find, but he still had to swallow his shock. Sherlock’s back was blistering bright red, throwing the scars from where he had been whipped into focus. 

“Father” he murmured gently, tugging the arms again.

“Get away from me, leave me alone” Sherlock whimpered.

“No, father. It’s me, John”

“John?”

“Yes”

Sherlock removed his hands from his ears, and opened his eyes slowly. He focused on John crouched beside him.

“Hurts” he whimpered.

“I know, father, but if you can get up, I can get you home and sorted”

“Scared”

“Why are you scared father?”

“They’re going to whip me...”

“No, father, no one is going to whip you or hurt you anymore”

“Promise?” Sherlock whimpered.

“I promise. Can you get up?” John asked, and Sherlock nodded.

“I... I think so...” he muttered, and gripped John’s arms, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He flinched as it strained his blistering back.

“Okay. You’re going to have to put your coat on. It will hurt. But then I can get you home and sort your back out” John murmured soothingly, causing his father to whimper again. He helped him into his coat, and Sherlock gasped as the material rubbed his burnt back. John helped him fasten the buttons, picked up his things and Sherlock’s laptop and shirt and took Sherlock outside and called for a taxi. His father was still not focusing, so John felt through the pockets for his wallet as the taxi pulled up.

“Where to?” The cabbie asked as John bundled Sherlock into the back.

“Um... how much would it be to get to Baker Street?” he asked.

“About a tenner”

“Okay. Can you take us there please?”

“Sure”

John kept glancing at Sherlock anxiously during the ride home. Sherlock stared out the window, shaking slightly, eyes shining with tears, and the taxi arrived outside their flat.

“Nine quid” the driver muttered and John handed him a ten pound note.

“Keep the change. Thank you” he helped Sherlock out of the taxi carefully and ushered him inside to the flat. He helped him out of his coat and examined his back again. The acid burns were healing, but Sherlock still curled up in his chair and closed his eyes, rocking slightly. 

“Father?” John asked. No response. He sighed, and went to the kitchen, and found a sharp knife. He knew it was dangerous, but it would be the only way to get a response out of Sherlock. He stood beside Sherlock, and pricked his finger with the knife tip, and a small drop of blood bloomed from his finger. Sherlock stiffened, and sniffed, following the smell, his eyes opening. He caught John’s wrist, and examined the blood, before licking up the tiny droplet carefully. The cut was only small, and had already stopped bleeding, but Sherlock’s eyes were open and he was alert, which John took as a good sign. Sherlock whimpered, and John handed him a small cube of steak, which he took gently. 

“Good Sherlock” he murmured, ruffling the dark curls. Sherlock looked up expectantly, and John laughed and handed him another cube of meat and ruffling the curls again. John hoped that this psychological damage wouldn’t last long.

That evening, Sherlock took John’s arm and dragged him to the alley. John stepped back as Sherlock hunched over, growing rapidly into the dragon. The dragon crouched down and allowed John to pat his snout, his eyes half shut, purring quietly. He jerked his head back, and John scrambled onto his back, running his hands soothingly over the thick scales.

“Alright, father?” he asked. The dragon snorted, and flapped his wings, taking to the skies. They flew around in silence for awhile, before the dragon swooped down and landed back in the alleyway. John slid from his back, and the dragon huffed.

“It’s okay, I’m not leaving you” John murmured. The dragon slowly began to shrink again, and John led the glaze-eyed Sherlock back home again, and tucked him into bed.

“There. I’m upstairs if you need me” he murmured, smoothing Sherlock’s thick curls from his face, watching his eyes flutter shut. He headed upstairs and climbed into bed, exhausted from the day’s events.

 

It was still dark when there was a frantic tapping sound at John’s door. He scrambled from the bed and opened the door, and Sherlock entered quickly.

“John, I am so sorry, I’ve only just realised what happened, I am so sorry for putting you through that I don’t know what happened to me, I am so sorry, please forgive me” he mumbled without pausing for breath. He swooped John into a tight hug, and John flinched slightly at his strength.

“Father” he managed to gasp. “Father”

“John, you are the best son ever” Sherlock whispered.

“Thank... you... stop... can’t.... breathe” John gasped, and Sherlock released him immediately, stepping back and touching John’s cheek lightly.

“I’m so sorry, did I hurt you? I tend to forget my own strength at times”

“It’s fine. Are you alright now?” John asked anxiously.

“I think so. I’m so sorry, he threw the acid at me, I had a flashback, and then I had a panic attack, and then I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry I put you through that”

“It’s fine, father. I’m more worried about how you are now than myself”

“I feel terrible”

“Why?”

“I turned into a gibbering wreck for no reason”

“Hmm. I think the reason was because you had a panic attack”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s fine, father. Go back to bed”

“... Thank you”

 

The next morning, Sherlock was perfectly fine, and didn’t mention the day before, so John didn’t either. He kept watching his father though, anxious that something might happen to him again. He had received a message from Molly telling him exactly what had happened. Bailey had grabbed the beaker full of acid and thrown it at Sherlock’s back when he was facing the other way. Sherlock had screamed, and hunched over, curled up in the corner and not responded to anyone. John was planning on telling Bailey what he thought today. 

John caught Bailey outside at lunch. He shoved the taller boy against the wall.

“What did you think you were doing yesterday, throwing acid at Mr Holmes?” he asked quietly. Bailey laughed.

“It was just a joke, Johnny boy, don’t get your knickers in a twist”

“If that’s your idea of a joke, you’d make a rubbish clown” John snapped.

“Really? I thought it was hilarious. He screamed like a little girl”

“Do you know why?”

“Because he’s a big frilly girl. Hey look, he’s over there” Bailey pointed. “Why don’t you run and show him how much you love your freaky daddy?”

John slammed his hands into Bailey, pushing him against the wall.

“Don’t you dare call him a freak, do you understand?”

“Why not? He is what he is, a freak” Bailey sneered, and John punched him, hard. Bailey quickly recovered and retaliated by punching John in the face, causing him to stumble back, before shoving John to the ground. Across the courts, Sherlock’s head snapped round as he caught the smell of John’s blood from his split lip. His eyes narrowed, and he was stood beside Bailey within seconds. He clapped his hand on Bailey’s shoulder as Bailey kicked John, who curled in on himself to protect himself.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Bailey Steele?” Sherlock asked in a dangerously quiet voice. Bailey looked up at him, smirking.

“He started it sir, he punched me first”

“John?” Sherlock looked at his son, who had managed to get back to his feet and was trying to stem the blood flow from his lip. “Is this true?”

John flinched. Sherlock didn’t look angry. He looked disappointed, and that was far worse.

“... Yes sir” he mumbled.

“Come with me. Both of you” he growled quietly, ushering them inside to his room. He shut the door and turned to face the two boys, arms folded.

“Explain what happened, now. Fighting is prohibited on school premises”

“John punched me first sir” Bailey muttered.

“Only because he was being horrible”

“What did he say?” Sherlock asked.

“He called you a freak” John muttered. Sherlock blinked; slightly surprised that John was defending him.

“As nice as it is to have you defending me, I can’t let this slide. Bailey, you’re in detention tomorrow lunchtime with me for being rude. John, you’re in after school detention for fighting”

“Okay sir” they both muttered.

“Apologise to each other”

“Sorry” John muttered.

“Sorry John” Bailey mumbled, looking at his shoes. 

“Get going then” Sherlock waved his hand and they both hurried from the room. John tried to make eye contact with his father, who refused to look at him as they left the room.

 

At the end of the day, John headed back to his tutor room, and knocked on the door.

“Come in” Sherlock called, and John pushed open the door and headed inside, looking at the floor. Sherlock rose fluidly from his desk and moved to stand in front of John.

“Look at me” he growled. John looked up unwillingly to see Sherlock with his arms folded. “Tell me from the top what happened”

“... I went to confront Bailey about yesterday. I never meant to start a fight. But he called you a freak and I... lost my temper a bit. I didn’t mean to” John muttered quietly. Sherlock leaned back against one of the tables thoughtfully.

“Hmm. What happened yesterday?”

“Your little... episode” 

“What does Bailey have to do with it?” Sherlock asked, slightly confused.

“He threw the acid at you”

“Oh. I see. Thank you, I guess, for confronting him about it. However, unfortunately, I still have rules to follow, and you’re staying here and doing work for the next hour. I can’t be seen letting someone get away with fighting. Especially not my son”

“... I understand” John mumbled. “Sir” he added as an afterthought.

“Right. Get on and do some homework or revision or something. If you haven’t got anything, I’ll find you a practise chemistry paper”

John sat down and started getting out his books and paper ready to do his maths homework. Sherlock watched him for a moment before heading back to his own desk ready to start his lesson plans. He glanced up from his laptop to see John bent over his maths work, and sighed under his breath, before returning his attention to his laptop. A few minutes later and he caught the smell of John’s blood, and looked up. John’s lip was bleeding again, small droplets landing on the maths work. Sherlock approached John, and examined the cut. He sighed quietly, touched his finger to his mouth and ran it across the cut, the healing properties in his saliva taking over and healing the cut. John was watching anxiously, and stared as Sherlock licked the blood smeared across his finger, his eyes flickering. 

“There. No more bleeding in here please” Sherlock smiled slightly, heading back to his desk.

“Thanks”

“Anytime” Sherlock replied, running his tongue along his teeth. He realised he hadn’t eaten for two days, and that if John or Mycroft found out there would be big trouble. He huffed quietly. He always seemed so busy that he kept forgetting to eat anything. And tasting John’s blood made him hungrier than ever. He caught himself thinking about what it would be like to taste human flesh, and was trying to push the image from his mind when John appeared next to his desk, and handed him something wrapped in plastic that smelt good. He looked up in surprise, and John smiled slightly.

“I always carry something for an emergency” he mumbled. Sherlock took the package and unwrapped it, salivating at the smell of meat.

“Thanks John” he mumbled as he bit into it. John headed back t his homework, ignoring his teacher who was hungrily tearing apart a steak across the room. Sherlock had finished within minutes, and licked the blood of his hands with a sigh. He was still hungry, but the steak had taken the edge off his hunger, allowing him to focus on his work again without thinking about tearing apart a human or his empty stomach. He knew he would have to eat again when he got home before his transformation, otherwise some poor human would end up a bite sized snack for him.

After an hour, Sherlock saved his work and shut down his laptop and looked up at John, still hunched over his maths homework.

“Come on John, time to head home” he murmured and John looked up before packing his things away. He followed Sherlock out of the room and they started walking home.

“Want to come for a flight tonight?” Sherlock asked.

“But it’s not the weekend” John frowned, remembering the rule set in place when he first moved in. Sherlock laughed.

“Yeah, I know, but I thought you could have another chat with Bailey”

“From on top of a dragon?”

“Well, yeah. I’ll keep quiet so he doesn’t figure out who I am. I can be quite intimidating, even though I don’t regularly harm people or start fires”

“Sure. Sounds fun. And you should know by now that I never refuse a flight. Best view of London is riding a dragon, definitely”

“Told you it was a good view of London”

“I never doubted you”

 

That evening, John accompanied his father to the alley. He never said anything, but he always hated watching the transformation at times, because he knew Sherlock was in pain, even though he would scarcely show it. Sherlock hunched over, and John stepped back out of the way, knowing if he was too close then he might get accidently trampled or knocked out by one of the huge wings. As soon as the transformation was complete, however, he stepped closer again and ran his hand across the dragon’s snout before climbing onto the dragon’s back between the wing joints. 

“Hang on, how do you know where Bailey’s going to be?” John asked. The dragon rumbled.

“I know lots of things. And I can smell him from here”

“Oh”

“Don’t sound so surprised”

“Sorry”

The dragon huffed and spread his wings, soaring up into the air. He sniffed, and whilst John enjoyed the view, the dragon began tracking Bailey’s scent. He was gliding along, and suddenly dropped into a dive down to the ground. John pressed himself tighter against the dragon’s back so that he didn’t fall, and the dragon landed in an alley, crouching down and folding in his wings. A few minutes later and Bailey emerged around the corner into the alley.

“Hey Bailey” John called, and Bailey looked up, and gave a muffled scream at the sight of the dragon laid on the floor with John on its back.

“What the hell?” he spluttered. The dragon blinked at him, growling quietly to add to the effect, before rising up to tower over Bailey.

“Just a warning that if you harm my father again, I’ll get my pet dragon to set fire to your house”

“The dragon’s your pet?”

“Yes he is. Beautiful, isn’t he?”

“I would describe him more as ugly”

At this the dragon growled loudly, his lips pulling back to show his fangs, leaning his head down to glare at Bailey. John made a show of petting the dragon’s neck.

“Easy, boy. We don’t want to hurt Bailey”

“It listens to you?” Bailey asked, staring in fear at the massive fangs.

“Of course he does”

“What’s his name?” Bailey asked. John flinched, slightly off guard, and said the first thing that came into his head.

“He’s called Smaug” he replied, and felt the dragon stiffen slightly in surprise at the name.

“Right. I suppose Mr freaky Holmes knows about your pet?”

The dragon hissed quietly, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course. He tamed Smaug originally, and lets him out at night. He lets me ride him sometimes”

“A tame dragon?”

“He’s relatively tame. You can touch him, he won’t freak out. Well, I don’t think he will”

Bailey approached nervously and touched the dragon’s snout, shuddering. The dragon jerked back from his touch, growling.

“Oh. I don’t think he likes you. He normally lets people touch him” John sighed.

“Right, sure he does”

“Well, we’d better be going. Remember what I said. Smaug won’t be afraid to set your house on fire if I tell him to. He’s already decided he doesn’t like you, and that’s enough. So be nice and apologise to Mr Holmes tomorrow”

“Fine” Bailey muttered, staring as the dragon flapped his wings and took to the skies. The moment they were out of ear shot, John laughed, and the dragon rumbled loudly.

“Smaug? Really?”

“First thing that came into my head. Do you actually have a dragon name?” John asked.

“Hmm no I don’t. I like the name Smaug”

“Good. From now on you can be Smaug the dragon. Or Smauglock Holmes”

“Smauglock Holmes? Nice”

“Thought you might like it”

“Yes, I do”

“I come up with the best suggestions” John laughed and the dragon rumbled as he soared back down to the alley. John slid from his back, and watched the dragon fold in his wings, the wings contracting into his back as he shrank down again. A minute later and Sherlock brushed himself down and stepped towards John, smiling widely. 

“Thanks for coming with me” he murmured quietly. John shrugged.

“I don’t know why you keep thanking me. I love coming with you when you fly”

“Yeah, but having you with me makes it more fun”

“Okay”

“You alright, John? You know you can tell me anything” Sherlock told him as they walked home and John nodded.

“Sure, I know. I trust you. Just... well, I can’t help but think about what’s going to happen... I mean, now you’ve made me immortal”

“Hmm. Well, we’re fine for a few years. When people start noticing we haven’t changed, then we move on”

“Move on... where?”

“I don’t know. Abroad, probably. But we’ll come back to London. I always do. I can never leave England for long, I always keep coming back”

“Where else have you been?”

“Hmm lots of places. America, Spain, Italy, India, China, France. I have houses in all of those. You’re welcome to stay with me, John, I hope you know that. I also don’t mind if you want to go on your own adventure”

“To be honest, I can’t really think of a world where I didn’t get to see my favourite dragon every night”

“Thanks, John”

Sherlock was too distracted that he didn’t watch where he was going and walked straight into the middle of the road in front of a car. 

“Father no!” John shouted, running into the road and pushing Sherlock out of the way. Sherlock stumbled out of the way of the car, and turned in time to see John hit by the car. 

“JOHN!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the car and pushing it back several metres with his bare hands so he could kneel beside John.

“John, can you hear me?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes father”

“Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?” he asked as the driver got out of the car.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit him! Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

“I’ll deal with you later” Sherlock growled, his eyes still fixed on John.

“I... my arm hurts” John mumbled.

“Did you hit your head?” Sherlock asked.

“It doesn’t hurt much”

“Good. Okay. Can you sit up for me, John?”

“I think so” John muttered, and gripped Sherlock’s arms, pulling himself into an upright position. He sat there for a moment, blinking slightly.

“My arm hurts” 

“I know, John. I’ll get you to the hospital, can you stand up for me?” Sherlock asked, taking John’s arm and helping him to his feet.

“Is he okay?” the driver asked.

“Shut up. I will deal with you tomorrow, do you understand?” Sherlock growled.

“Whatever”

Sherlock took John to the hospital, and paced anxiously outside the x-ray department. This was his fault because he hadn’t been looking where he was going. And John had saved him. He ran his fingers through his hair, irritated at himself. 

The door opened and John shuffled out, slightly pale. He stepped up to Sherlock, who stopped pacing and touched his shoulder.

“John?” he asked anxiously.

“We’ve got to wait for a few minutes out in the waiting room and they’ll let us know. Stop fussing, I’m fine”

“John. You are my son, and I worry about you. This is all my fault...” Sherlock trailed off, and started muttering something inaudible. 

“What did you say?” John asked as they found seats in the waiting room. Sherlock sighed and repeated what he had said, causing John to blink.

“Um... in English, please, I don’t speak French”

“Sorry. I was blaming myself”

“It’s not your fault, father, don’t blame yourself”

“It is my fault. I was thinking about how I haven’t been to my place in America for years and then I wasn’t looking where I was going”

“I don’t blame you”

“...Thank you”

“John Watson” the doctor called. John stood up but Sherlock remained sat.

“Want me to come?” he asked, and John nodded. He smiled, stood, and followed them over to the computer.

“Well, John, you have a very small fracture. If you’ll come with me we’ll get you plastered up” he smiled, leading them to another room. John flinched as his arm was bandaged, and reached out to Sherlock. Surprised, he took his son’s hand, smiling comfortingly.

“It’s going to be alright, John” he murmured quietly. The doctor heard and looked up.

“Sure is. A fracture is nothing, right, Mr Watson?”

“Oh, um, I’m not Mr Watson. I’m Mr Holmes” Sherlock mumbled.

“Ah, my apologies. You’re John’s guardian, then?”

“Yeah, that’s right”

“I think I remember you. You’ve been here before for a broken arm”

“Yeah, I have” John muttered. “I’m used to it”

“You need to be more careful” the doctor smiled, finishing taping the plaster. “Right, you’re all good to go. See you in a month to have the plaster off and some more x-rays. Stay out of trouble”

John stood and followed his father out of the hospital. The moment they were outside he caught Sherlock’s sleeve.

“Are you alright, father?”

“What? Yes, I’m fine”

“Are you sure? You look hungry”

“Hmm yeah, I am a bit”

“Father, you said I could tell you anything, right?” John asked.

“Yes, of course you can, John” Sherlock replied. 

“I wanted to tell you that I’m always here for you, and that you can tell me anything as well. I will always listen to you father”

“... Thank you, John. That means a lot to me”

“You mean a lot to me as well, father. I don’t want you to be sad”

“I’m not sad”

“Are you sure?”

“Alright, I’m not that great. We’ll talk about it when we get home”

 

The moment they got inside, John whirled around and turned to Sherlock, who sighed and flopped in his chair. John settled himself opposite.

“Tell me what it is, father” John murmured in an even tone.

“I’m not that great, John. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed I’ve been skipping meals”

“Why have you been doing that?” John demanded.

“I’ve been trying to distract myself with work. It’s that girl, Jo, in one of my classes. I keep thinking about her”

“What about her?” John asked, confused, desperately hoping his father didn’t fancy Jo because that would be extremely awkward.

“She’s the spitting image of her mother”

“Oh yeah, Louise, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. I wonder. I... I’m not sure that’s true”

“What do you mean?”

“Because the other day, when I was flying, I saw a phoenix. And it wasn’t my brother. I think it was her. My Irene”

“But that’s not possible”

“You understand what’s wrong now, yes? I think that Irene’s alive”

“And Jo is what, your daughter?”

“It’s possible”

“No, father. It’s not”

“Why?” Sherlock asked, looking hurt. John sighed.

“Think about it. Your kind reach immortality when you’re in your early twenties, yeah?”

“Yeah...”

“Jo is only seventeen. If she really was your daughter, then she would be an adult by now”

“... You’re right. I’m over thinking”

“It’s alright, father. Now, no more skipping meals over this, okay?”

“Alright”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets excluded from school and Sherlock has another dream

There was a knock at the door, and Sherlock swallowed his lunch quickly.

“Come in” he called. He always seemed to be getting visitors now. Usually it was John, but today it was Danielle that looked in.

“Danielle. What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr Holmes, but John’s hit his head and he’s calling for you”

Sherlock swore quietly under his breath and jumped up.

“Where is he?”

“Outside”

“Right, take me to him” Sherlock muttered, pulling on his coat and scarf. He followed Danielle outside over to a crowd of people around a bench. He flinched.

“Look, it’s Mr Holmes!”

“Well observed. Get out of the way” Sherlock muttered, and the crowd scrambled back to let him through. He sighed when he saw John blinking dizzily at him from the bench.

“...Father?”

“I’m here, John. Are you feeling okay?”

“I... I think so”

“What happened?” Sherlock asked. John whimpered and threw his arms around his father, who caught him easily.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s alright, no need to cry, shhh” he murmured. The people around him started whispering and giggling, earning themselves a glare from Sherlock.

“Shouldn’t you be going? No need to stand around, you’re not helping him” he snapped, and they scrambled away. Danielle hovered uncertainly, and Sherlock looked up.

“It’s fine, Danielle, thanks for getting me. I’ll get John inside” he murmured and she nodded, moving away. Sherlock carefully helped John to his feet and led him back inside to his room, stumbling a few times.

“It’s alright, John, I’ve got you”

“Father...”

“Yes John?”

“My head hurts”

“I know, John. Sit down for me. Do you remember what happened?”

“I... I think I fell... no... maybe I was pushed... I’m not sure”

“Okay. Do you want some painkillers?”

“Yes, make the pain stop”

“Alright. I have some in my desk, hang on” Sherlock headed back to his desk and opened one of the drawers. He rooted around inside and found the box of tablets. He found John’s water bottle as well, and John swallowed the medication, and sighed, before smiling slightly.

“Why do you have painkillers? You don’t get hurt”

“Hmm that’s true. I don’t get hurt, and I rarely get headaches. The tablets would do nothing for me anyway. They would dissolve and I would get nothing from them. I keep them for emergencies”

“Thank you for being my father” John mumbled.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’ve been over this hundreds of times already. I’m always happy to be your father”

 

Sherlock was working in one of his free lessons alone in his room, humming along to some classical music. The door burst open, and his head jerked up in surprise to see John.

“John? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in lessons?” he asked, confused. 

“I did a bad thing” John mumbled. Sherlock switched off the music and stood, approaching his son cautiously.

“What did you do, John?” 

“You’re going to hate me”

“Don’t make that assessment until you’ve told me what it is. What happened?” 

“I... can’t say”

“Tell me”

“No”

“John, my patience is wearing thin. Tell me what happened now” Sherlock commanded.

“... I swore at Mr Mason”

“And why did you do that?”

“He called me stupid, I lost my temper and shouted a load of rude things and he said he was excluding me so I stormed out...”

“Right. Come on” Sherlock swept from the room with John trailing after him. The bell rang and all the classes left, and Sherlock went and knocked on the door of the maths room, shoving John inside.

“Mr Holmes” Mr Mason muttered stiffly. He had hated the science teacher the moment he had met him.

“Mr Mason” Sherlock replied politely, pretending to be oblivious to the venomous looks from the maths teacher. “I believe John...”

“Don’t bother. He’s still being excluded for being a rude obnoxious brat” 

“I was not suggesting that John go unpunished for this”

“Yes you were. He’s your kid, isn’t he? Like father like son. Both of you are obnoxious brats”

“Mr Mason, I am not disagreeing with you that what John did was wrong. Kindly refrain from insulting me as well”

“Whatever. John is being excluded, I’ve already sent through the paper work”

“I see. May I see a copy of this paperwork?” Sherlock asked politely. John whimpered slightly as Mr Mason handed over the sheet marked with his name. Sherlock read through it quickly, and sighed.

“Fair enough. Come on, John, you’ve been suspended for the week”

“Aren’t you going to punish him? He is your kid after all”

“Hmm yes. I will of course be having a talk with John when we get home”

“What’s wrong with you? He needs a good old fashioned beating”

“That may be your view but I do not agree with beatings”

“Freak”

“Kindly refrain from calling me that again. I am aware of my nature and it does not need to be verbalised” Sherlock murmured quietly.

“Your nature? What the hell does that mean?” Mr Mason snorted.

“I am different to you. John is different”

“You’re weird”

“I’ve been called worse. Now, if you’ll excuse me, John and I need to have a talk in private. Good day”

Sherlock swept from the room again, followed by John. Sherlock was silent as he packed his things up and pulled on his coat before they started to walk home. John kept glancing at his father, who was silent, his expression unreadable and impassive. 

When they got home, Sherlock pulled off his coat and hung it up before turning and flopping in his chair with a sigh. He signalled for John to sit opposite.

“Okay, John. I don’t want to know what happened. I have observed Mr Mason’s behaviour, and I can see that it is clear he has taken a disliking to you because of me. I am sorry for that. I don’t actually know what I ever did to that man, he hated me the moment I said my name”

“... Am I being punished?” John mumbled, staring at the floor.

“Punished? Whatever for? From what I’ve heard, he insulted you first. Granted, you shouldn’t have snapped at him, but you really haven’t done enough wrong to warrant a week’s suspension”

“Oh. I thought you’d ground me or something”

“Hmm I don’t believe in grounding. You will receive no punishment from me. I do, however, expect you to keep up with the work sent home. Try not to enjoy the break too much”

“... Thank you, father” John muttered, standing and approaching Sherlock, who watched him approach and smiled. John perched on the arm of Sherlock’s chair, and smiled at his father.

“Thanks for not hating me” he muttered.

“I would never hate you, John, you know that”

“Even if I killed someone?”

“Even then. I couldn’t hate you for that. I’d be a huge hypocrite considering my history”

“Yeah you would, you great big dragon” John grinned and Sherlock laughed.

“Thanks John. I see no reason to hate you”

“Thanks”

“Of course, that doesn’t mean you can get excluded again. I’m fine with it this time because of what happened. I will not be so lenient at a second suspension, on that you have my word”

“I understand, father. I didn’t mean to get excluded this time. I don’t plan on doing it again in a hurry”

“Might I suggest that in your week off that you write Mr Mason an apology letter”

“Fine”

“Good. Seen as you’re off, fancy a flight?”

“You know I can’t refuse”

“I know, but I thought I’d ask anyway”

 

The next morning, John woke up at the usual time and sighed. He didn’t have to get up, but he did anyway, pulling on his dressing gown. He could hear the sounds of Sherlock moving about downstairs, so he headed down. Sherlock was scrambling around the front room, muttering quietly, but he looked up when John walked in.

“Morning John. Have you seen my key stage three science book? I’ve got year eights first and I can’t find it...” he trailed off, sorting through papers on the desk and then getting annoyed and throwing them over his shoulder. John sighed, and headed to the sofa where he could see the tip of the missing book poking out from behind a cushion. He pulled it out, and turned back to Sherlock, who was now muttering rapid fire curses in Spanish under his breath, still throwing paper around the room. John tapped his shoulder, and he stopped and looked round.

“What?” he asked, irritated. John handed him the book in silence, and Sherlock blinked before smiling.

“What would I do without you, John?” he asked, and John laughed.

“I don’t know. How did you manage so long without me here to keep an eye on you?” he asked, and Sherlock laughed.

“I don’t know either. Thank you”

“No problem” John smiled as they headed into the kitchen. Sherlock started digging through the fridge and sat down with his breakfast whilst John sat opposite.

“Right, seen as you’re suspended, I recommend that if you decide to go out that you don’t go far. You have no work today but I will pick up work for you tomorrow. Enjoy your day off and stay out of trouble, alright?”

“Yes father”

“Hmm. I should be home normal time”

“Okay”

Sherlock finished his breakfast and quickly went to get dressed. He emerged a few minutes later fastening the buttons on his jacket, and smiled at John. 

“Right, I’d better be off. Text me if there’s any problems, and I’ll see you later” he smiled warmly as he pulled on his coat. John watched him for a moment, and then hugged him. His surprised father patted his back.

“Hey, I’ll see you soon, okay?” he rubbed John’s back soothingly.

“I know, I know. Have a good day, father” John mumbled, releasing him. Sherlock smiled, patted John’s shoulder, picked up his laptop and the book and left. John listened and heard the door shut downstairs, and looked around with a sigh. The room was still a mess from where Sherlock had lost his book earlier, so John started picking up the papers and sorting them into neat piles on the desk. He knew if he did more than that he would trigger a ‘Sherlock tantrum’ if he couldn’t find what he was looking for. 

After tidying, John didn’t know what else to do with himself, and jumped when Mrs Hudson walked in.

“Oh, hello John. I forgot, Sherlock said you’d be home. Everything alright, dear?”

“Um, yeah, I’m fine”

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. I might make some biscuits later. I don’t know”

“If you need me, I’m downstairs. I just came to take the rubbish out” 

“Okay” John said, before heading into the kitchen. He had been meaning to make biscuits for ages, and now with the place to himself would be the perfect opportunity. Even if Sherlock didn’t want them he would enjoy it and it would give him something to do. 

Sherlock walked in at just gone four, sniffing the air, and wandered into the kitchen.

“Something smells good. Been baking?” he asked John, smiling. John pulled the tray out of the oven and set it on the side before turning to his father, smiling widely.

“Yeah, I thought I’d give it a go. Been meaning to try it for ages”

“Hmm. Definitely smells nice. A lot better than a bunch of year sevens” Sherlock muttered, turning to walk away. John frowned.

“Father, is that blood on your collar?” he asked. Sherlock turned back, his hand moving to touch the side of his neck. John stepped towards him, looking up at him. Sherlock’s eyes slid away from him.

“Hmm” he murmured, moving to pull off his jacket. John caught his sleeve.

“Father, what happened? Why is there blood on your shirt? Are you hurt?” he asked.

“What? I was, yes. Bailey slashed me with a scalpel. I got him suspended as well for it. I’m fine, John, don’t fuss” he muttered.

“Don’t fuss? He cut your neck! You could have bled to death, father!” 

“John. Your concern is very touching. I heal fast, didn’t you notice? There’s no cut, John, I’m fine” Sherlock replied with a smirk, pulling off his shirt and changing into an old grey t shirt. John sighed, and hugged him.

“Don’t scare me. I thought you were hurt”

“I’m fine, John. You shouldn’t worry about me”

“I always worry about you, father” 

“Thanks John. Now, do I get one of these biscuits you made?” Sherlock asked, stepping back and smiling at his son, who laughed.

“I thought you didn’t eat anything normal”

“I told you when you moved in. I can eat other stuff. I just choose not to because it does nothing for me. However, I would like to try one of my son’s biscuits” Sherlock settled himself in his armchair, and John fetched him the tray of biscuits. Sherlock took one, sniffed it, and bit into it carefully. John watched anxiously, and Sherlock smiled at him.

“What the heck did you put in these? They’re brilliant!” 

“Thanks. And it’s just a basic recipe with chocolate chips in” John replied. 

“Still good. Although unfortunately your teachers have set you a tonne of work for the week, so no more baking”

“I know. How much?” John asked with a sigh, and Sherlock pulled out a folder.

“All of this, apparently. This is everything you’re going to miss” Sherlock patted the folder and pulled a face. “Boring. Coming for a flight tonight?”

“Of course”

“Good to hear. You been alright on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ve been fine”

“You sure? I worried about you. It wasn’t the same without you in class or walking home”

“Thanks, father. I missed you too”

“Thanks John”

 

“Father...” John trailed off, glancing behind him. The dragon bowed his head beside John, who patted his snout.

“Yes John?”

“I think we were followed”

“Hmm. I think we were too. She’s gone now though. She stopped following before I changed. She didn’t see anything”

“How do you know it was a woman?”

“I could smell her. It’s a familiar scent. She’s been following me for awhile. She followed me home today”

“She’s stalking you?”

“I’m sure its nothing to worry about, John. Relax”

“Alright”

 

After an hour long flight, the dragon soared back to the alley way and John slid from his back, watching and waiting as the dragon folded in his wings and began to shrink again. A moment later and Sherlock ran his fingers through his curly hair with a sigh.

“Well, that was fun” he grinned, falling into step beside John as they walked home. John could see the same figure that had been following earlier was walking on the other side of the road, and was about to point this out as she started to cross the road. Sherlock’s head snapped round as though he knew the woman was following, and he suddenly lurched forward into the road and pushed the woman out of the way of a speeding car, narrowly missing being hit himself. John jogged into the road beside Sherlock.

“You’re safe now, Louise, it’s alright. I would also appreciate it if you would stop following me” Sherlock muttered and John realised it was Jo from college’s mum, Irene’s sister. Louise blinked at him.

“Oh Sherlock” she breathed, reaching out to him. He jerked back as she touched his hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s me, Sherlock, don’t you recognise me? Don’t you recognise my scent?” she asked. Sherlock looked confused, and she sighed, and pulled out a small pocket knife and pricked her finger. A single drop of blood oozed from the cut, and John looked at his father quickly. Sherlock had gone rigid, and grabbed her hand, examining the blood. He gently licked up the blood, and closed his eyes, mulling the flavour over. His eyes snapped open, and he dropped her hand.

“Impossible. You can’t be here. Stop this. She’s gone, I watched her die, so stop pretending, please”

“Sherlock. I know this is a shock for you. I... I’m not really called Louise”

“No. But you can’t be her...”

“It’s true, Sherlock. I’m Irene. Your fiancé”

Sherlock had stiffened, and stumbled backwards slightly. John touched his arm gently, and he flinched.

“No, no, no this is impossible, you can’t be here, this isn’t real, I must be dreaming” he mumbled. “If you are who you say you are, come with me. It seems we have a lot to talk about” he sighed, striding home with John beside him and Louise/Irene following. The moment they reached the flat, Sherlock flopped in his chair, and Irene perched herself opposite. John pulled over a chair, and watched his father anxiously, who leaned forward.

“Irene... is it really you?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Sherlock, it is me”

“... What the hell took you so long?” 

“I... I know it’s been thirty years, Sherlock, but... it took me a while to recover from my injuries”

“You died. You died, I watched you die, I mourned you for thirty years, and you never thought to send me a single word, just one little note to say you were alive?” Sherlock demanded in a loud voice, his eyes flickering.

“I did die. You did watch me die. The grave you visit and lay flowers on is empty. Between my death and my funeral I recovered from my injuries and came back to life. I am... I was a phoenix, Sherlock. Phoenixes burn when it is time to die and are reborn from the ashes. I recovered, and came back to life, but at a cost. I no longer have my phoenix abilities, other than the fact I am immortal and if injured will regenerate. I no longer transform”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were alive?” 

“It was better for you to think I was dead. I knew I was going to die that night. I left the country for six months, but when I came back, you were gone. I couldn’t find you anywhere. I searched for you. I never gave up”

“But Jo... who is she?”

“The daughter of a friend of mine. She is not our child, Sherlock. Our child died when I did. I was asked to go to the open evening as Jo’s mother because her real mother was busy. Jo always called me her second mother. She asked to see the chemistry teacher, and who should it be but you. I was so happy I found you again”

“What now?”

“I... I’ve told you. I gave you my diary. I know you read it. You know how much I loved you. I decided it was time to come back into your life, even if you don’t want me. I’ve told you what happened. If you want me to leave, I will, and you will never see or hear from me again”

“I... can I have a private word with John, please?” Sherlock asked, standing. Irene nodded, and John followed Sherlock into his room. Sherlock shut the door, and turned to John.

“What can I do, John?” he whimpered. John touched his shoulder.

“Father. She still loves you. Why do you think she came back?”

“But... you... I would have to leave you...”

“That doesn’t matter. She means a lot more to you than I ever will”

“No, no, no, John, you mean the world to me... Irene... she lied to me and left me alone for so long... I don’t know what to do”

“Okay. I’m going to suggest something, and it’s fine if you say no” John murmured and Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair, looking up.

“What is it?”

“We go back out there, and you suggest that for the time being, you and Irene remain friends rather than partners as you were before. However, I am not saying that a relationship will not form again between you. It’s just an idea”

“Hmm... you aren’t going to leave me?”

“Why would I do that?” John asked, confused.

“I don’t know. But you might”

“No, father. I will never leave you. I am always with you, and I will always stand by you no matter what decision you make”

“Thank you John”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“Hmm.... maybe I will take your advice”

“Okay. Are you ready?” John asked.

“I think so. Stay with me”

“Always, father”

Sherlock opened the door and headed back into the front room with John behind him. Irene looked up.

“John and I have had a discussion, and I have decided that I think it is best if we remain friends for the time being rather than attempting to revisit our previous relationship”

“I understand. You have a son now”

“... Before you go, do you know what happened to the baby?”

“The baby died, Sherlock, I said that before”

“No, no. I meant... did they have to cut it out of you when you... died?”

“Oh. Yes. Little boy”

“Right, thanks”

“It’s fine, Sherlock. Bye”

“Bye Irene” Sherlock murmured, watching her go. 

 

Sherlock snapped awake with a start, and remembered his dream. Irene had come back alive and he had pushed her away. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. He had been with John for an uneventful flight and had put him to bed a few hours ago. He knew Irene was gone, and the whole thing had been a dream. He ran his fingers through his hair again, knowing he should try and get more sleep, but also knowing at the same time that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again tonight. He sighed quietly, and stood, heading out to the front room after pulling on his dressing gown. He propped his violin to his shoulder, and placed the bow against the strings. He began to play quietly, the music flowing through the air around him. He closed his eyes, completely still apart from his arm moving the bow back and forth, his fingers on the strings. He didn’t hear John come downstairs or enter the room. Nothing could get through to him when he was playing. Except for one word.

“Father?”

Sherlock stopped playing, and opened his eyes, turning around to see John stood watching him.

“John. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, lowering the violin.

“Um, yeah. It’s fine, I don’t mind. Are you alright?”

“Hmm no, John. Not really” Sherlock replied quietly, setting his violin carefully on the desk and flopping in his chair, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh. John moved to sit opposite.

“What is it, father?”

“I... had a dream. In the dream, earlier tonight, when we went flying, we met Irene, and it was really her, and she was alive, but I pushed her away”

“Oh. That didn’t happen, father”

“I know...” Sherlock sighed, and picked up his violin again and began screeching away at it angrily. He closed his eyes, angrily sawing back and forth across the strings, producing a loud screeching sound that John could only compare to a cat in a lawnmower. John stood, crossing the room as one of the strings on the violin snapped. Sherlock continued to screech away at it, and John grabbed his arms as another string snapped.

“Father! Stop it!” he shouted, pulling Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock flung his hand out and struck John across the face, hard, and John stumbled backwards, surprised, tears running down his cheeks. He gave a sob, his hand covering his face, and Sherlock’s eyes snapped open at the sound. His gaze locked onto John, clutching his cheek with tears in his eyes, and he dropped the violin onto the desk with a crash, crossing the room and crouching in front of John, who scrambled away from him.

“John, please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, please, forgive me” he murmured and John whimpered. “John, please, let me see”

John slowly moved his hand away from his face, and Sherlock saw the bright red hand shaped mark on his cheek. He ran his fingers over it gently, ignoring John when he flinched.

“John, I am so sorry I hit you” he murmured. John blinked, eyes wide.

“I forgive you” John whispered, and Sherlock hugged him tight.

“Thank you, John”

“I’m sorry I grabbed you”

“Why did you do that? It was a dangerous thing to do. I could have taken your head off”

“I grabbed you because you broke your violin”

“I did?”

“Yes” John replied, pointing over at the violin laying on the desk. Sherlock stood, pulling John with him, and stepped up to the desk. He sat down in his chair, cradling his broken violin sadly. John edged closer, surprised to see his father crying.

“Father?” he asked gently.

“I... my violin... I broke it...”

“I know, but we can get it fixed, yes?”

“Yes...”

“Father?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

“I think so... “ Sherlock mumbled, running his fingers over the broken violin strings. He looked up at John sadly.

“Can you do me a favour tomorrow?”

“Of course” John replied.

“Can you take this to the music shop round the corner and get it fixed?”

“Of course I can”

“Thank you John. I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“You’d be in huge trouble probably, knowing you”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. Something”

“Thanks John, your faith in me is extremely uplifting” Sherlock smiled slightly, and John laughed.

“No problem. I trust you”

“I didn’t mean to hit you, I hope you know that. I don’t agree with hitting people”

“I know, it’s fine, I forgive you”

 

The next morning, Sherlock had calmed down, although when he emerged from his room and saw his broken violin he sighed, and carefully placed it in the velvet lining of the case and snapped it shut.

“I’ll get it fixed for you, father” John promised, and Sherlock nodded and handed him some money.

“Thanks, John. Don’t forget to do your work as well though”

“I won’t” John promised as Sherlock fastened his blazer and pulled on his coat, flicking the coat collar up as he did so. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Sherlock asked as he zipped his laptop into its case.

“Stick your coat collar up like that” John smirked and Sherlock sighed.

“Habit. Irene... Irene used to like it when I did it... said it made me look good”

“Oh. It’s fine. I can see where she was coming from... you do look different”

“Thanks, John. Right, I’d better be going. I’ll be home normal time. See you later” Sherlock turned to leave and John hugged him quickly.

“See you later. Have a good day, father” he murmured and Sherlock smiled to himself as he left. John looked out of the window and watched Sherlock walk down the road, and sighed, letting the curtain fall back. He went and got dressed, and pulled his work for the day towards him. 

After lunch, John, who had finished his work, picked up the violin case, checked it was shut securely, and picked up the money he had been left to pay for repairs and headed out. The music shop was two roads away, as promised, and John pushed open the door and stepped up to the counter. The man smiled.

“Hey kid. How can I help you?” he asked. John placed the violin case on the counter.

“Um... do you think you can fix the strings on here?” he asked. The man opened the case and lifted out the violin, examining it carefully.

“Ahh, I recognise this. How come you have Sherlock Holmes’ violin?”

“Um, he’s my adopted father”

“Ah. He came to me before when he broke one of the strings”

“Can you fix it?”

“Yeah, sure. Give me about half an hour and I’ll have it done”

“Okay. I’ll come back in half an hour then”

“Okay kid. See you soon”

John wandered around the roads nearby, hands in his pockets. He went and sat in the park, watching some pigeons scrambling around the path, and sighed. He glanced at his watch, and started to walk back to the shop. He headed inside and up to the counter. The man smiled at him.

“Hey kid. Almost done, I’m just tuning it... Sherlock always forgets and it was horribly out of tune...” he sighed, plucking the new strings before he carefully placed the violin back in the case.

“Ten quid then” he smiled and John handed over the money. 

“Thank you. He was so upset last night when he broke it...”

“I can imagine. He does love his violin” the man grinned as John picked up the violin.

“Thanks again”

“Anytime. Tell Sherlock I said hi”

John nodded and left the shop and started walking home. He wondered if Sherlock knew most of the people that worked in shops in the area. Well, the man was immortal, so he would know a lot of people. John shook his head as he headed back up to the flat. Sherlock would be home soon, so John carefully laid the violin out on top of its case on the desk for him to see when he came in. He then started reading, curled up on the sofa, and twenty minutes later, the door opened and Sherlock walked in, smiling when he spotted John.

“Hi John” he grinned, setting down his laptop case and grinning at his violin. “I see you got my violin fixed for me. Thank you” he added, lifting up the instrument and propping it against his shoulder and picking up the bow. He quickly ran through some scales and arpeggios and sighed.

“Much better. Thank you”

“No problem. He said he tuned it for you as well because you always forget and it was horribly out of tune”

“Hmm...”

“Father? Are you alright?” John asked as Sherlock put the violin down and flopped down in his chair.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Bit tired”

“I’m not surprised. You were up half the night screeching away at that violin”

“Sorry about that. It usually helps me think, helps me calm down”

“You seemed annoyed”

“I was annoyed at myself for being late and not being there to save Irene”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for that, father, it wasn’t your fault”

“I think it was”

“No, father, it wasn’t. Please stop blaming yourself”

“Alright, alright”

“Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow though, so I’ll be a bit later... sorry”

“It’s fine”

“Are you sure? I feel like I keep abandoning you”

“I don’t mind, father. I am eighteen, sort of. It’s your job, I really don’t mind”

“Thanks for understanding”

“No problem”

 

Sherlock was so late home the next day that John had almost finished making macaroni cheese when his father got home. Sherlock stood framed in the kitchen doorway, and sniffed.

“Smells good. There enough for me?” he asked. John nodded. He’d made extra anyway, and switched off the pan and started serving it onto two plates whilst Sherlock pulled off his coat and shoes. He opened the fridge whilst John sat down and started eating. He was joined a moment later by Sherlock who scattered some cubes of meat into the pasta. John shook his head and Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

“Problem?”

“I give you a normal plate of food and you put raw meat into it...”

“Sorry, John, but as much as I like ‘normal food’ I do still require protein” Sherlock replied, picking up his fork. John sighed.

“I know, I know”

“I can’t help it, John. I would change it if I could”

“I like you the way you are, father”

“Thanks”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John receives his A-Level results....

On Monday morning, John was nervous as he followed his father to the maths. Sherlock’s coat swept behind him like a billowing cape as he strode confidently through the school. He entered the maths room with John.

“Mr Holmes. What brings you here?” Mr Mason asked, glaring up at the taller man, who smiled.

“John has something for you”

John took his cue and edged forward and handed Mr Mason the apology note he had written. Mr Mason read it quickly, and snorted.

“Whatever. I won’t tolerate any more rudeness in my class, John, I hope that’s clear? I also don’t tolerate teachers from other departments in here” he glared at Sherlock, and his smile widened.

“Ah, then why was the charming Miss Allen from the technology department in here yesterday? Having trouble with your computer?”

“None of your business. You’ve over stayed your welcome, both of you. Now get out” Mr Mason growled and Sherlock smiled again.

“No problem. Come along, John, we won’t impede on Mr Mason’s time any longer” he turned, sweeping from the room again with John trailing behind him. John kept glancing at his father on the way back downstairs, who noticed him looking.

“Something wrong, John?”

“What? No, no, I’m fine...” he trailed off, and Sherlock shut the door to the room, turning to face his son.

“Tell me if there’s something wrong, John, and I’ll make it better”

“Its been a year since my parents died...” John mumbled. Sherlock sighed.

“I suppose it is. Are you alright?” he asked, stepping closer to John, who flinched and buried his face in Sherlock’s coat. Sherlock put his arms around his son, gently soothing him.

“Hey, it’s alright, John, you know I’m always here for you”

“Can... can you come with me to see them later? I was going to go on my own, but I don’t think I can...”

“Of course I’ll come with you, John”

“Thank you”

 

On the way home, John purchased some flowers, and Sherlock followed him in silence through the graveyard. John stopped, and Sherlock stood back respectively, hands behind his back, as John placed flowers on the base of his parent’s gravestones. John stood, and glanced at Sherlock, who looked back at him, his expression unreadable. John stepped back, and pressed himself against Sherlock, who slid his arm around his shoulders carefully.

“This is my new father, Mr Holmes. He’s a nice man, and he looks after me and I’m happy” he murmured. Sherlock squeezed his shoulder.

“Indeed. John’s safety and happiness is my top priority” Sherlock murmured quietly, his deep voice grave. 

“Goodbye, mum and dad. I still miss you” John whispered, tears in his eyes. Sherlock patted his shoulder, and John buried his face in Sherlock’s coat. 

“Shhh, John, it’s fine” he murmured.

“Father...” John pulled back and ran away, leaving Sherlock alone in the graveyard. Sherlock glanced back at John’s parents gravestones before turning on his heel and walking away, catching John’s scent in the air and following it. He found John stood leaning on a railing by the Thames, staring down at the water. He didn’t look round as Sherlock approached cautiously, and didn’t move until Sherlock stepped up beside him and touched his shoulder.

“John?” he asked quietly, anxiety creeping into his voice. John gave a whimper. “Please, John, step back away from the ledge now. I’ve got you”

John looked around at that, realising that Sherlock thought he was preparing himself to jump. It hadn’t crossed his mind, he had just wanted to look at the water and think on his own for a bit. He turned to face Sherlock, who’s eyes were wide with more than anxiety. 

He was scared. There was fear in those intelligent grey eyes, and that was enough to make John move back away from the railing, and Sherlock followed. They walked home in silence, with Sherlock glancing anxiously at John every few seconds. The moment they were inside the flat, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and hugged him tight. Sherlock put his arms around John as well.

“Shhh, it’s alright, John, I’m here, I’ve got you” he murmured.

“Father... I’m so sorry” John gasped. Sherlock pushed him back gently and looked him in the eye.

“Whatever for, John?” he asked. 

“For putting you through that...”

“Hmm. I’m fine, John, because I know that you are safe. I honestly thought you were going to jump into the river though. I’ve never felt so scared for someone’s life before, not even my own. I lost my Irene, and I couldn’t bear to lose you as well, John”

“You won’t. I wasn’t going to jump, it never even crossed my mind, I just wanted to think”

“I’m glad to hear it John”

“I’m also sorry for making you come with me to the graveyard”

“John, if I minded that, I would have said. I understand it’s difficult for you. Remember, I went through the same thing when I lost my parents”

“... I never really thought about it that way. I usually see you as this big strong person that doesn’t get worried or upset about anything. But occasionally, like by the river, I see that you’re still human as well”

“But I’m not human, John, I don’t even know what I am, but what I do, turning into a dragon, is not normal. I am not human, John, I never have been and I never will be” Sherlock muttered quietly and John sighed.

“I know. You turn into a dragon every night. So what? Does it matter? I’m not bothered. Yes, you might not be human. But you look human, and you act human, and you still do human things. In my mind, I see you as a brilliant human that just happens to turn into a dragon. Which, just to clarify, makes you more awesome”

“And yet I have to hide my identity from everyone. I would lose my job if it became public knowledge. Who would want a dragon capable of killing them in hundreds of different ways teaching their kids?”

“But I trust you, father, and I always will”

“Thank you John. I am always here for you”

“And I am always here for you, you brilliant dragon”

“Hmm I’d describe myself as ugly, but I suppose a dragon could be brilliant as well”

“Ugly? You’re a handsome dragon”

“I have never seen myself as the dragon. I have seen the eyes, of course, when my eyes change, I’ve seen it in the mirror”

“It was really freaky the first time I saw it”

“That’s because you didn’t know. You just thought your teacher was mad”

“I didn’t know what to think, really”

“Hmm. I still think I made the right choice in telling you”

“You didn’t. You invited me to a dark alley one night, which, let me just say, could have got you sacked as well because it probably looked highly suspicious”

“Maybe. Never mind”

 

“Quit pacing”

“I’m nervous” John replied, continuing to pace the living room, causing Sherlock to sigh.

“No, really? I thought you just wanted to wear out my carpet and drive me insane” he muttered under his breath sarcastically. “We’ve got another hour yet before we need to leave. Why did you insist on getting up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep” John muttered, pacing the length of the room again. Sherlock sighed again, and stood, crossing to the shelves on the other side of the room. He pulled out a photo album.

“Fine. See if this will get you to calm down. Sit down” he instructed, crossing the room again and sitting on the sofa beside John, who watched him open the album.

“More pictures?” he asked, and Sherlock smirked.

“You’ve seen the ones of me growing up. These are the proper baby photos of yours truly when he was born”

John leaned close, eager to see, his anxiety over his exam results forgotten. The first photo was of Sherlock’s mother holding a small baby cradled in her arms. Underneath was written “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, b. 29th July 1893”

“You were a cute baby” John remarked and Sherlock snorted.

“If you say so”

“No, look, you’ve got nice black hair, look, and a little chubby face and hands...”

“John, if you mention this to anyone I will make sure that you never see daylight again”

“Alright, alright, no need to threaten me. I was just saying that you were a cute baby”

“Right” Sherlock snorted, turning the page. There was baby Sherlock laid in his crib, with a two year old toddler Mycroft pointing at him. Sherlock continued to flick through the photos, laughing with John at them, and sighing frequently. After flicking through the entire album, he glanced at the clock.

“Go on, go get your shoes on. Time to go” he murmured, and John jumped, having forgotten that it was time to get his exam results. He hurriedly pulled on his trainers as Sherlock stood, smoothing his jacket and smiling at John. They started walking in silence.

“Are you nervous?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“Terrified” John muttered in reply, and Sherlock sighed.

“It’s only natural to be nervous. It’s going to be fine, trust me. You’re a clever young man”

“What if I fail?”

“You won’t fail, John. And even if you do, well, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know what you’re doing with your life yet anyway, and we’ve got a long time for you to decide. You can go to university in a couple of years if you want”

“Will you hate me?”

“If you fail? No, John, I won’t hate you. We’ve been over this before. I could never hate you, no matter what you did” Sherlock replied as they arrived at the school. John swallowed nervously, and Sherlock patted his shoulder.

“I’ll be right over here, okay? Go and join the queue” he patted John’s shoulder again lightly before moving to stand to the side, his hands behind his back. John joined the queue of people waiting to collect their A level results and was joined a moment later by Molly. They started a conversation, and after a few minutes reached the front of the queue. Molly said she’d be over to talk to him in a minute and wished him luck as she hurried back to her parents and John moved towards Sherlock, who watched him open the envelope carefully. John read the sheet of paper in silence.

“Well?” Sherlock asked. John shrugged and handed him the sheet of paper, fighting to keep a straight face. Sherlock scanned through the results, and grinned.

“What did I tell you? Two A grades and a B, John! You could go to any university you wanted with these. Well done” Sherlock pulled John into a hug, and John laughed.

“Thanks father” he mumbled, pulling back to see Molly stood there, blushing slightly awkwardly with her parents.

“Hi Molly” Sherlock murmured politely and her father narrowed his eyes.

“I recognise you, don’t I? You’re one of the teachers” he frowned and Sherlock nodded.

“Yeah, I’m Mr Holmes. John is my adopted son” he murmured in answer to the confused looks.

“Ah. And how did you do with your results, John? Molly got two Bs and an A” 

“I got 2 As and a B” John mumbled, and Molly hugged him.

“Well done John” she whispered, and he grinned.

“And well done to you as well” he smiled. 

“Well, we’d better be going, Molly” her mother muttered, and Molly broke apart from John, nodding.

“Sure. See you soon John. Stay in touch”

“Of course” John smiled as he watched them walk away, before turning back to Sherlock, who had resumed his stance with his hands behind his back. He smiled down at John.

“Well, I think a celebration is in order. Come on” he grinned and John laughed as he followed his father from the school. 

“Where are we going?” John asked, and received a mischievous grin in response.

“Out. It’s nearly lunchtime”

“And?”

“We’re going for a picnic” Sherlock replied, striding into the fresh sandwich shop. “Take your pick. My treat” 

John examined the menu and selected a sandwich, and after having it freshly made, they stopped by the butchers.

“I know you won’t let me skive off my diet, even just this once” Sherlock sighed heavily, pushing the door open. John laughed.

“Certainly not” he told him sternly and Angelo smiled at them.

“Hi Sherlock” he grinned. “The usual?”

“Actually, no, just one steak. I only need something for lunch today”

“Ah, sure. Not a problem. Take your pick”

Sherlock leaned closer and examined the meat on display thoughtfully, before picking out the one he wanted. Angelo wrapped it for him, and Sherlock handed over some money, and they left again. 

“One more stop, I think, before we pick our picnic spot” Sherlock muttered, striding into the bakery. He let John choose a cake, selected one for himself, and they left again, heading to the park. They stopped at the same tree as before, and sat down, Sherlock leaning back into the shadows as usual. John had noticed that his father always preferred to walk close to the shadows, as though trying to hide himself from the world. 

“Why do you do that?” John asked, and Sherlock, who had been resting his head back, opened his eyes.

“Do what?” he asked, confused.

“Sort of hide in the shadows like you don’t want to be seen” 

“Oh. Habit, really. People haven’t always been so lenient at letting the dragon go unharmed. Many attempts have been made on my life in the past, although admittedly not here in London. In Spain I was hunted, in Italy I was hunted, but in New York, I was respected and ignored, in London I have become a mascot, and in China I had people worshipping me as a god”

“Bet that was nice for you”

“Hmm. Humans always dislike me even in human form. Instinct for survival, because they can tell that I am not quite as I seem. I got used to trying to hide to avoid the glares from people passing by”

“I guess that makes sense. You said there had been attempts on your life...”

“I believe I told you, once, that a fatal stab wound to the heart of a dragon such as myself would kill it. When I used to fly around, people had built these huge crossbows and would fire huge arrows at me. Each one would bounce off my scales and probably crush someone below, but that just annoyed people even more and made them more desperate to kill me”

“It’s not fair, though. You have no control over it, you don’t kill people or start fires, so why should you be hunted?”

“I agree with you, it is not fair. They hunt me because dragons have always been seen as huge murderous monsters, and that is what they believe I am. Therefore if we ever do go back to the places I was hunted, I would prefer not to, although you have full choice over where we go”

“Because they’d hunt you again?”

“Hmm, no. I believe you are also aware that I possess stupidly huge amounts of money, and for each of my homes I had a huge underground room built in which I would transform and curl up. I hate it, I prefer being able to get out and fly”

“Is there one of those rooms at Baker Street?”

“Of course. I think you’ll find the basement is always locked, and that it is just a big spacious room. Mrs Hudson knows, of course she does. She knows a lot of things. She’s immortal, but has no shape shifting abilities. However, the room in the basement is a precaution. If anyone makes an attempt on my life, then I will resort to transforming downstairs away from everyone, which I would prefer not to have to do, as one does miss seeing the stars sometimes”

“I hope that doesn’t happen. I would miss the flights and I wouldn’t want you to be upset”

“I don’t get upset by it, John, just annoyed. Anyway, if that’s all the questions, shall we have lunch?”

“Sure” John replied, tucking into his lunch whilst his father leaned even further back into the shadows to have his lunch. After finishing, John looked at his father, who was deliberately looking the other way, watching a couple play with their young daughter.

“Father?”

“Look at them, John. So happy... so blissfully ignorant...” Sherlock sighed, still watching the young family. John touched his shoulder.

“I know what you’re thinking, father, stop it” he muttered sternly and Sherlock looked around, faintly amused.

“And what was I thinking?” he asked.

“You were thinking that could have been you and Irene”

“Hmm yes, I was” Sherlock mused, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “I’m sorry”

“No need to be sorry, father”

“No, no, I should be, I keep on talking and thinking about Irene when I should be focusing on the here and now with my son” Sherlock smiled at John, who sighed.

“I don’t mind, father”

 

That evening, John glanced at the clock.

“Father? Shouldn’t you be going?” he asked, and Sherlock sighed.

“I was trying to put it off, but yeah...” he trailed off, standing up.

“Want me to come with you?” John asked, knowing Sherlock was having one of his moments where he hated transforming.

“I was going downstairs instead, but sure, you can come” Sherlock replied, heading out of the room and down the stairs. John followed and watched him unlock the door to the basement, and head down the stairs. 

“Wait until I’ve transformed, John, I don’t want to crush you” Sherlock called back, and John saw the light click on, illuminating his father as he began to transform. John remained at the top of the stairs, and after a moment, heard the dragon rumble quietly.

“Okay, John, you can come down now”

John shut the door carefully behind him and headed down the stairs. The dragon was curled up against the wall, and his lips pulled back as John approached and ran his hands over the dragon’s neck carefully.

“Are you alright, father?” he asked quietly. The dragon sighed, his wings twitching slightly.

“Fine, John. Just a bit tired, that’s all”

“You never usually want to come down here” John murmured.

“I know, but tonight I didn’t fancy flying around”

“You can tell me anything, father, I hope you know that” John murmured.

“I know, John, thank you”

“You’re all warm” John smiled, sitting down on the floor and pressing himself up against the dragon, who rumbled.

“What do you expect? There’s a lot of fire inside me”

“Yeah, but this is nice and cosy” John replied, running his hand over the scales again. “I can feel your heartbeat”

“Nice to know”

“Don’t be sarcastic”

“Alright, alright”

“Thank you”

There was a pause, in which the dragon listened to the sound of John breathing, and John in turn listened to the dragon’s huge heart beating.

“John?”

There was no response, and the dragon turned his head to see John had fallen asleep, laid on the floor beside him. He smiled, and lay his head down, and gently folded one of his wings over John, carefully holding him safe, before closing his eyes.

 

John woke up the next morning feeling stiff, although he was incredibly warm. He blinked, confused as to where he was, only to find himself pinned down by Sherlock’s long arm. He frowned, and realised that they had both fallen asleep, and at some point Sherlock had changed back again. He managed to pull himself free, embarrassed, and Sherlock stirred.

“John?” he mumbled, raising his head wearily.

“Morning father”

“What... why are we down here?”

“I think we fell asleep...” John muttered before helping Sherlock to his feet, who sighed and smoothed his creased shirt.

“Great” he yawned, and ruffled his hair.

“Um...”

“What is it John?” Sherlock asked, switching off the light and heading upstairs with John following.

“Nothing, nothing”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for not updating yesterday....  
> I actually didn't plan this at all but John receiving his A-Level results on the actual same day I did (today) worked out well.
> 
> But then what do we say about coincidences?
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos/comments :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to university in America and Sherlock manages to make himself ill without John there to keep an eye on him

Dear Father  
I’m all settled in now, in my new student apartment. It’s weird sharing the place with other students. My classes start tomorrow, and I’m nervous and excited at the same time.  
How are you? I miss you, miss you being there and annoying but lovely at the same time.  
I’ll try and come home for the holidays. I don’t know if I can though.  
I’ll see you soon though, I promise.  
John.

Sherlock read the letter and sighed, glancing around the empty flat. He missed having John around, keeping him safe and out of trouble. He missed the company when he flew at night as well, and considered writing back, before realising he wouldn’t know what to say. By all rights, John was an independent adult now, and didn’t have to see him again if he didn’t want to. Sherlock had put up no fight when John had said he wanted to move to America to study medicine. He had wanted to accompany John, but his job kept him where he was. He wasn’t ready to leave London again, not yet.

Dear Father  
It’s been a year now, since I arrived. I haven’t heard from you, are you alright?  
I can’t come back to visit for the holidays because I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m sorry, I really wanted to come and see you. I hope I see you soon.  
Please write to me, father. Not hearing from you makes me think something’s happened to you, and I’m worried.  
Hope to hear from you soon,  
John.

Sherlock sighed when he read the letter. He had been hoping to see John, and now that wasn’t happening. He could picture John in his mind’s eye, sitting at a desk and writing the letter for him. He knew John would worry about him, of course he would, John always worried about him. But Sherlock had sat down many times now to write a response, only to find that the words wouldn’t come. He loved John as his son, and in his own way was grieving the fact he was no longer here in his life. He knew it was different from when Irene died, seeing as John was still alive and just living in another country, but it still made his heart ache to think of his son.

Dear Father  
I’m seriously worried now that I haven’t heard from you. It makes me wonder if you’re actually receiving these and they aren’t just getting lost in the post.  
It’s been three years, and I’ve written to you hundreds of times, and yet you have never responded, and that makes me sad.  
It makes me wonder if you ever cared about me at all  
John.

Tears stung Sherlock’s eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. John was now doubting him, and he couldn’t stand it, so he sat down at his desk and found a sheet of paper.

Dear John  
I know it’s been three years, but I am really sorry that I haven’t written to you. I received all of your letters, and am glad to hear that you are happy and enjoying your time at university.  
The reason I never wrote to you is not because I don’t care. I care about you, John, an awful lot; I’ve told you that before. The reason I never wrote to you is because I never knew what to say. I hope you can forgive me.  
I’m well, as well as someone like me can be. I miss you. It’s like I’ve lost you forever, and I know that isn’t true, because technically, you’re an adult now, and don’t have to see me again if you don’t want to, so the fact you still write to me means a great deal.  
It’s up to you, but I am still here and I still love you, my son.  
All the best  
SH

He re-read the letter he had written and nodded with satisfaction, before sealing it in an envelope and writing John’s address on, before striding from the flat and walking to the letter box. He hoped the letter didn’t get lost in the post.

Dear Father  
Thank you for writing to me and explaining. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to come home and find your handwriting on my doorstep.  
I understand and I forgive you for not writing to me. You never abandoned me.  
I should be coming home soon; my degree course is nearly finished. I’m taking a break from essay writing to write this to you.  
I miss you, father.  
John.  
P.S: I’ve enclosed something small for you. It’s not much, but I hope you like it

Sherlock frowned, and picked up the envelope again, peering inside. There was another sheet of paper there, and he pulled it out. It was a photo of himself and John together on holiday outside the Empire State building. He remembered having the photo taken, and sighed, deciding to find a frame. He then sat down to write a response.

Dear John  
Thank you for your letter, and the photo. It means a lot to me.  
I’m looking forward to seeing you again. I need someone to share my adventures with. Not that I’ve had any adventures, really, apart from being told I have a year seven tutor group next year, which is going to be... nice...  
I miss you too, let me know when you’re coming back and I’ll come and meet you from the airport.  
See you soon  
SH  
P.S: Seen as you enclosed something for me, I’ve enclosed something small for you. And it didn’t hurt, I promise

Sherlock sealed the letter along with one of his scales into an envelope, and sighed. It was much easier to write to John now, although he still missed him a great deal.

Dear Father  
Gate Four, Gatwick airport, 4am, 6th July  
See you soon  
John.

Sherlock grinned when he read the time of John’s arrival back in London. He was looking forward to it more than anything else over the summer, because John had finished his degree and was coming home.

Sherlock took a taxi to the airport at three in the morning, and found the right gate, and joined the mass of crowds waiting for their loved ones, a lot of them holding signs with the people’s names on or waving banners saying ‘Welcome Home’ above the crowds. Sherlock stood to the back, out of the way, his hands behind his back, as was his custom when waiting like this, knowing John would find him. His eyes scanned over the crowd, and it wasn’t long before he heard the rumble of the plane approach, and the thud as it hit the tarmac. A few minutes later, and the doors opened and people flooded into the area, embracing their loved ones and crying and laughing. Sherlock watched, faintly amused, and waited, trying to pick up John’s scent as he did. It was another couple of minutes before he picked up the familiar scent as John entered, wheeling his case behind him. The moment he walked in, he locked eyes with Sherlock, stood at the back, and his face broke into a wide grin, and he started shoving his way through the crowds. Sherlock grinned widely back at him as John dropped his case and flung his arms around him, laughing and crying at the same time. Sherlock laughed, putting his arms around John, breathing in the familiar scent.

“Father I missed you” John mumbled into his shoulder.

“I missed you too, John” he replied. John pulled back, and Sherlock kept his hands on his shoulders gently.

“Are you alright?” John demanded, and Sherlock laughed.

“I’m perfectly fine, John, healthy as ever. No doubt if something had happened to me that my insufferable brother would have contacted you” he replied, taking hold of John’s suitcase. “Now, ready to go home?”

“Definitely” John replied, falling into step beside his father as they left the airport.

“So, how was your four year university stint?” Sherlock asked as they waited for a taxi.

“Pretty good, actually. Although I’ve decided I missed London too much, so I’m going to find somewhere closer to home to get my doctorate”

“Doctorate, huh? Going to be a doctor then? You’ll be more qualified than I am, although I’m still ahead at the moment” Sherlock smirked as they climbed into the taxi. John grinned.

“Not for long. The doctorate course I’ve been looking at is only about three years, although I might take a gap year first”

“Do what you like, I don’t mind, you know that you’re welcome to stay with me for as long as you like”

“Hmm.... could be awhile then before you get rid of me”

“Doesn’t matter, I love having you around. I’ve had no one to talk to but myself”

 

“I didn’t touch anything, it’s just how you left it. Well, I aired the mattress and dusted and stuff” Sherlock frowned to John as he went up to his room with Sherlock following anxiously.

“Thanks” John mumbled, dumping his case and turning around and hugging his father, who patted his back.

“Hey, I missed you too. Although, I am going to have to go to bed now, as I have work in the morning”

“Oh. Right, sure” 

“We can spend some time catching up tomorrow evening and over the weekend, I promise” Sherlock murmured and John nodded.

“I’ve missed you”

“I know, John. I know”

 

John forced himself to go to sleep that night, and ended up managing to sleep until half ten in the morning. He sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes, before realising he was at home again and that there was a note with his name on propped on the bedside. He picked it up.

John  
You weren’t awake when I left, I’m sorry  
I promise you we will have a proper chat tonight when I get home  
SH

John sighed, and stretched. He had the rest of the day to unpack, so he got out of bed and started sorting out his clothes. He pulled out the scale Sherlock had sent him and placed it in the desk drawer with the others he had been given, before settling the rest of his belongings back into his room.

Sherlock came home to find John curled up, reading, a wrapped parcel on the desk.

“Hey, John, have a good day?” he asked. John nodded, and Sherlock picked up the parcel. “What’s this then?” he asked.

“Just something for you” John shrugged.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, John” Sherlock muttered, pulling off the wrapping. Inside was a new chemistry book. Sherlock shook his head, amazed.

“Is this really for me? I’ve been looking for a copy of this for ages... where did you get it?”

“Found it in the bookshop round the corner. Thought you might like it”

“Thanks John” Sherlock grinned, hanging up his coat and scarf and flopping on the sofa beside John.

“So. How was it? Tell me everything”

“It was great. I lived with this American guy called Martin, and he was nice. He was studying the same course as me, and he was in loads of my lectures and stuff. Him and some of the others used to pick on my accent at first, but I didn’t mind. I know that Americans seem to find British accents fascinating”

“Hmm yes. I found the same when I lived in New York”

“Are you going to let me finish?”

“Sorry, yes, go on”

“Well, I had a girlfriend as well. Called Mia. She was really nice. She dumped me last week when she found out I was moving back to London. I think she wanted me to move in with her” John buried his face in his hands, and Sherlock patted his shoulder warily.

“Never mind, John. She obviously didn’t care that much about you. There will be plenty of time for you to find the right girl, John, trust me, it takes awhile”

“Do you think you’ll ever find someone else?” John asked quietly. Sherlock breathed in sharply and ran his fingers through his hair absently.

“I don’t think I will, John. I think with my kind... it’s kind of love at first sight, almost, bonded with the one person forever. But you don’t have the same rules. You’ll find someone, I promise”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. And when you do, you won’t want to be with your father anymore, which is fine by me”

“That will never happen. I’ll always be there for you, father”

“Good to hear. I have missed you”

“Missed you too, dragon man”

“Dragon man?” Sherlock snorted.

“Yeah. You’re a dragon, and a man... so dragon man”

“Right, thanks. I suppose you want to come with me?”

“Of course. I’ve missed seeing my dragon friend”

“I’m right here”

“Yeah, but you look like you now”

“Right, thanks”

 

John sighed as they walked briskly to the alley that night.

“It’s nice to be back in London” he remarked, and Sherlock chuckled as he began to transform. John watched, smiling, as the dragon bowed his head and allowed John to pat his snout.

“That’s nice. I’ve missed having you with me”

“I know. I missed you too. You look the same as ever”

“I never change, John, you know that”

“I know” John sighed, running his fingers over the scales carefully.

“Something wrong? Not that I don’t mind being stroked like that, it’s nice”

“No, no. I’m fine. Just wondering about when I met you”

“Oh. We can have another talk when we get home, if you like. Right now though, I need to stretch my wings”

John quickly scrambled onto the dragon’s back, and the dragon rumbled deeply.

“Ready?”

“Yes of course I am”

“Hold tight then”

The dragon bounded down the alley and soared up into the air, spreading his huge wings wide. John laughed, his hands on the dragon’s back as he looked around and saw London the same as ever spread out below him.

“Oh, I really have missed this” he shouted.

“I bet you have. No dragon rides in America, it’s a London only thing, and only for my favourite son”

“Thanks father. You’re my favourite dragon as well”

“You’ve only met one dragon”

“You’ve only got one son” John contradicted, and the dragon rumbled loudly.

“True, very true” the dragon hummed quietly, and John ran his hands over his neck gently.

“Everything alright?”

“Perfectly fine, John. You’d be the first to know if I wasn’t”

“Just making sure”

“I know, I know. Anyway, time to land. You wanted to talk, and I have a feeling that its easier to talk to a human than a dragon”

“Hmm yeah it is” John muttered as the dragon swooped back down, landing with a light thud. John slid from his back and shook his head.

“Problem?” the dragon asked as he began to shrink back down slowly.

“No, no problem. Just thinking about how you always land so quietly for such a huge dragon”

The half transformed dragon chuckled, and eventually became Sherlock chuckling quietly.

“Oh, John. I thought I’d told you before that I am very quiet when I move”

“Yeah, I know you are, but still. You’d expect the massive dragon to land with a really loud thud... but no, it’s just a sort of tap sound” John remarked as they walked home.

“I’m very good at controlling my weight. I weigh rather a lot obviously as a dragon”

“Obviously. You’ve got bigger since I left”

“Have not”

“Yeah, you have father” John smirked as they headed back inside the flat.

“Are you telling me I’ve gotten fat?” Sherlock asked, offended.

“What? No! I’m just saying... you’ve put on a bit of weight” John smirked, patting Sherlock’s middle. He huffed loudly as he flopped in his seat.

“I have not put on weight”

“Yes you have, don’t lie to me. Have you changed your diet again?” 

“... No”

“You don’t sound so sure”

Sherlock hesitated, so John jumped up and ran to open the fridge, staring in awe at the contents. Normally it was just the bottom shelf that held meat, but the middle shelf also contained meat, both shelves stuffed with various steaks. Sherlock appeared in the doorway, looking guilty.

“John...” he mumbled. John closed the fridge and turned around.

“What is it?” he asked. Sherlock turned and headed back to his chair, and John followed, settling himself opposite.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked gently, and Sherlock sighed, resting his hand on his stomach.

“I... missed you... I suppose it was... comfort eating”

“Comfort eating? You were comfort eating because I went to university? What, you got hungry and started munching raw steaks twenty four seven?”

“Sort of” Sherlock mumbled. 

“Comfort eating though? Really?” 

“I missed you”

“And stuffing yourself was going to help that?”

“I suppose not”

“No more comfort eating. Back to your regular diet tomorrow”

“... Fine”

“I mean it. You are getting fat, father. Not a good look. I thought your dragon self had a bit of a round stomach”

“Alright”

“Now, what do you want to talk about?” John asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“I... anything”

“Okay. Why?”

“I... don’t know”

“Father, are you alright?” John asked, concerned, noticing the sweat coating his father’s face and neck.

“Yes, yes, absolutely fine” Sherlock’s eyes glazed over and his words became slurred.

“Father?”

“John...” Sherlock mumbled, before his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped down in his chair. John swore loudly and pulled out his phone, quickly dialling his uncle’s number.

“Ah, hello John. I heard you were back in the country. How was university in America?”

“Good, great, yes, tell you about it later, that’s not why I’m calling”

“Oh dear. What’s my brother done this time? He’s not stuck again, is he?”

“No, no, he’s... we’re at home, and he... just collapsed”

“What? Is he breathing?”

John stepped closer, and touched the pulse point on Sherlock’s neck.

“Yes, he’s breathing and he’s got a pulse, although it’s beating quite quickly”

“I’m on my way. Do not call an ambulance”

“I understand” John replied, and the line went dead. He put his phone back in his pocket and gently moved Sherlock’s head, putting him in the recovery position in the hopes it might work. He smoothed back Sherlock’s hair, which was damp with sweat. Sherlock, despite the fact he was always hot, hardly ever sweated. He was burning hotter than he had ever done before, and John was close to panicking. He gently took Sherlock’s hand, ignoring the heat and the sweat.

“Wake up for me, father” he whispered as the door flew open and Mycroft burst in, crossing the room quickly and crouching beside his brother. He reached out, but jerked back at the feel of his flame hot skin.

“He’s never gotten like this before... I’ve been making sure he stuck to his diet, what’s gotten into him?”

“He hasn’t been sticking to his diet” John muttered quietly and Mycroft’s head snapped up.

“What?” he demanded and John showed him the fridge full of meat in silence, causing Mycroft to swear loudly.

“He’s over eating. He’s taken in too much nutrition so it’s turned to body fat, and that is really not good for him” he muttered.

“We were just discussing it when he passed out”

“What did he say?”

“He said he’d been comfort eating because he missed me” John mumbled.

“Right. He didn’t tell you, did he? He’s such an idiot sometimes I am going to bloody kill him when he wakes up...” Mycroft muttered, pacing the room anxiously.

“Tell me what?” John asked. Mycroft opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by another voice.

“Are you really going to kill me, brother?” Sherlock whispered quietly. John and Mycroft dropped to their knees beside him, and he struggled to pull himself into an upright position.

“Of course not, Sherlock” Mycroft sighed. “But I think you and John need to have a talk about this... comfort eating or whatever you want to call it, whilst I leave you and talk to that damned butcher Angelo for selling you the meat” he stood and left the room, and a few minutes later they heard the door slam downstairs. John looked back at Sherlock, who rubbed his head.

“Did I pass out?” he asked, confused.

“Yeah, you did. Now tell me what the hell is going on here”

“... I don’t know if I ever told you, John, but... I sort of... claimed you”

“Claimed me?”

“Yes. Dragons... we’re very protective of what is ours. I... claimed you as my son”

“Okay. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I must keep you safe. Once a dragon has claimed something or someone, they protect it until they die”

“So when I left...”

“It took all of my will power not to follow you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you living in another country. It... drove me insane, knowing you were out there unprotected. I knew you wouldn’t want me to starve myself and possibly kill someone, so I started eating twice as much as normal. I don’t know why. But it seemed to help. I was remaining strong for you, and it kept me distracted. I ignored people when they commented I’d put on weight. I didn’t know I had”

“Well, I’m surprised you didn’t notice. Your shirt buttons look like they’re about to burst” John muttered, and Sherlock glanced down, surprised.

“I can see it now, yes...” he muttered, unbuttoning his tight shirt with a sigh. His once muscular chest had been replaced with a layer of fat, and John sighed.

“Well, thank you for telling me, you know, when it’s too late, what my leaving would do to you”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen...”

“Clearly. Well, I think I made the right choice in attending a more local university next. In fact, I meant to say, I don’t even know if I want to go to university”

“Well, whatever”

“One thing I don’t understand. Mycroft said that excess body fat was dangerous for you. Why?”

“It’s just not good for my health, really. I mean, I know I can’t die from it like humans would, but it does make things awkward. I mean, I have to live with this forever, constantly getting out of breath and sweaty and disgusting to look at”

“Not if you go back to your regular diet and start exercising”

“Alright. I will. For you. Just... don’t leave me again, please? I may not be able to die, but I will find a way if something happens to you”

“I’ll be fine, father, don’t you dare attempt suicide”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooooooo sorry I haven't updated! I've been super busy this weekend but I'm here now and should be back to posting regularly
> 
> As always, many thanks for the comments/kudos :) you're all amazing and thank you for sticking with this work


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John begins helping Sherlock to recover from his latest bout of illness

The next morning, and John found Sherlock sat at the table with a plate of four steaks. 

“How many have you had already?”

“... One”

“Right” John snatched the plate from him and put it back in the fridge whilst Sherlock watch, still holding a half eaten steak. John turned back to him, arms folded.

“Eat that, and get ready for work”

“Are you in charge now? Last time I checked, I was your father, not the other way around”

“Don’t care. You listen to me and trust me, and if I tell you to do something, you listen”

“Fine” Sherlock muttered, swallowing the rest of the steak with a sigh. He stood and headed into his room to get dressed. He emerged a few minutes later, and John shook his head at the tight shirt still threatening to burst the buttons.

“You really did put on weight, you idiot”

“Thanks John” Sherlock muttered, blushing.

“You are an idiot. A great big idiot” John sighed, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around his father. “A great big idiot who is my special father that I love”

“Love you too John” Sherlock mumbled, patting John’s back.

“Come on, I’m walking you to work” John told him, stepping back as Sherlock pulled on his coat, not bothering to fasten the buttons.

“What why?”

“Because I want to” John replied as they left. Sherlock was quiet the whole way.

“Father, you know I only want you to be safe” John murmured quietly.

“I know... I’m sorry”

“I forgive you”

“I’m hungry” 

“No, you’re not. You think you are, but you aren’t. You are going to wait until lunchtime. I’ve packed your lunch for you, no sneaking out”

“Fine”

“I’ll meet you here at the end of the day, okay? I’m just making sure you’re safe” John muttered as they reached the gates.

“Hey, John!” John spun around to see his old English teacher, Alison Reeves stood there.

“Hi Miss” he mumbled.

“Sherlock said you’d gone to America to university for four years. You haven’t changed at all though!” 

John glanced at his father, who’s expression shut down, instantly on guard.

“Well, I’d better be going. Nice to see you keeping an eye on your father again, he’s not been looking after himself”

“I’m fine” Sherlock insisted as she walked away. He turned to John, his eyes sad.

“Am I really that fat?”

“No, father. Just... fairly pudgy. You’ll be fine”

“Bye John”

“Bye Father. Have a good day”

John watched him walk away, before turning and heading home again. He stopped by the butchers.

“Hey, Sherlock’s kid”

“Hi. I believe Mycroft has spoken to you?”

“No, why? Something wrong with Sherlock?”

“Yes, there is. You’ve been selling to him more frequently than usual whilst I’ve been away. That will stop now”

“What’s happened?”

“He’s made himself ill by over eating. From now on, please do not sell anything to him unless I say you can, or if I am with him. I will be buying him stuff now, okay?”

“Er, yeah, sure”

“Good. Have a nice day” John turned to walk away.

“Listen, kid, if I had known he was making himself ill, I wouldn’t have sold to him. He’s my best customer, and I just assumed his diet had changed again”

“Alright. He’s still your customer, just through me instead”

“Bye kid”

“Bye” John muttered, heading out of the door and heading home. He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Mycroft to say that he had spoken to the butcher who wouldn’t be selling Sherlock anything without his permission and that he would be purchasing the meat from now on. His uncle replied a few minutes later to say thank you and that he was sorry he forgot to speak to the butcher himself.

 

John waited by the gates at the end of the day, ignoring the kids shoving past him. He knew Sherlock wouldn’t be long, but after half an hour, he knew something was wrong, so he headed up to the main reception.

“Hi, can you tell me if Sherlock Holmes is in a meeting?” he asked the receptionist, who looked up at him, surprised.

“Oh, hi John. No, he’s not in a meeting. I haven’t seen him since break time. You can go and look for him if you like”

“Sure. Thanks” John smiled and headed through into his old school. He sighed as he walked along, remembering his time there. He stopped at his tutor room door, and tapped on the door. There was no answer, so he pushed open the door to find Sherlock had passed out again on his desk. He darted forward, swearing under his breath, and touched Sherlock’s pulse point, relieved to feel it beating at a regular pace compared to last night when it had been racing. He smacked Sherlock across the face, and received a groan in response, followed by Sherlock’s eyes opening slowly. John helped him into an upright position, and he blinked, dazed, before focusing on John.

“John? Did... did you hit me?”

“Yes, father, I did. Time to go home”

“What...” Sherlock mumbled, standing slowly.

“You fainted again. I’m taking you home”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
It took another six months before Sherlock managed to completely loose all the weight he had gained and recover his muscles. John had been making him jog to work and then do sit ups and press ups in the evenings before he transformed. Sherlock never argued or complained, he merely complied and did what he was told. As soon as he arrived home, he would change into an old t-shirt and spread himself on the carpet and start doing press ups while John watched.

“You’re doing well, father” John remarked and Sherlock fell back onto the floor, surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve stuck t your diet, been exercising and you’ve lost weight and got a bit more muscle”

“That’s good then” Sherlock muttered, resuming his press ups.

“Yeah, it is. I think it’s time to stop with the press ups now” John grinned and Sherlock fell to the floor again.

“Oh. Okay” he muttered before sitting up and starting sit ups. John sighed, and smirked, placing his foot on Sherlock’s shoulder, forcing him back down to the floor.

“I could get used to this. What I meant was I don’t think there’s any need for more exercising”

“Really?” Sherlock asked from the floor, his eyes alight.

“Yep. Come on, off the floor now” John held out his hand, and Sherlock grabbed it, but instead of pulling himself up he smirked and pulled John onto the floor beside him, laughing.

“What was that for?” John protested, laughing as well.

“For standing on me”

“I didn’t stand on you, just pushed you down with my foot”

“You put your foot on my shoulder. That is equal to standing on me”

“Shut up” John advised, standing up and hauling Sherlock with him. His father smirked, and touched John’s shoulder lightly, his eyes shining. John smiled back at him and touched his hand.

“It’s alright, father, I know what you’re thinking” John murmured quietly and Sherlock dropped his hand, looking away.

“What was I thinking?”

“How happy you are that I’m home. I won’t leave you again, father”

“Thank you” Sherlock sighed quietly.

 

“John! Hey, John!” a voice shouted, and John turned. Sherlock paused, looking around as well as a young woman ran towards them and swept John into a hug. Sherlock’s brow furrowed, confused.

“Hi Harry” John mumbled, pushing the woman away. He looked up at Sherlock, who stared back at him. “Um... this is my adopted father. Father, this is my older sister Harry”

“Nice to meet you. Sherlock Holmes” Sherlock smiled, holding his hand out. Harry looked from his face to his hand and then at John, and took a step back.

“Monster” she whispered, and Sherlock let his hand drop back to his side.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“You’re a monster. What have you done to my brother?” she demanded. Sherlock’s face fell.

“I have done nothing to your brother”

“You liar!” she shouted, causing people to turn and stare. John grabbed his sister and marched her back to the flat with Sherlock following. As soon as the door was shut she rounded on Sherlock again and pointed at him accusingly.

“What did you do to him, eh?” she demanded.

“I have done nothing to John”

“Lies. You hurt him, you’ve done something to him, it’s not right, what did you do? Do you hit him?”

“No! I have never harmed your brother, and I would never do that” Sherlock mumbled quietly.

“Then why does he still look like a seventeen year old, and why is he still staying with his adoptive parent?”

“John is here because he chose to be”

“Harry. Listen. Sherlock and I, we’re different, okay? I’ve changed slightly. Don’t blame him, please, it isn’t his fault. It was an accident”

“An accident? It was an accident you were adopted by a vampire and now he’s turned you into one of them as well?” Harry demanded, and Sherlock bit back a laugh.

“Contrary to what you seem to think, I am not a vampire”

“He isn’t a vampire, Harry, he’s special” John told his sister quietly. 

“If he’s so special, tell me what he’s done to you, or I will kill him” Harry muttered, drawing a pocket knife and pointing it threateningly at Sherlock, who smiled widely.

“Cut me, stab me, do whatever you like. I really don’t care, I don’t feel the pain from such a small knife. Think before you act, though, think about how it will hurt John if I am injured by his sister” Sherlock threw his coat down and held his arms out. Harry stared at him before grabbing his hand and stabbing the knife into his palm, drawing a thick cut, blood pooling into his palm. John grabbed his sister, who threw the knife at Sherlock.

“Get out, Harry, and leave us alone. Don’t come back, do you understand?” John shouted, shoving his sister out the door and turning back towards Sherlock, who had fallen into his chair.

“Are you alright, father?” John asked. Sherlock sighed quietly.

“Get this thing out of me”

“What thing?” John asked. Sherlock sighed again, and moved his blazer so John could see the pocket knife that was embedded in his chest. John swore loudly.

“Father, if I take it out you’ll bleed to death”

“No I won’t. But I can’t heal with it still in me, and it’s rather painful”

“Alright, alright. I’ll pull it out”

“Please do” 

“It’s going to hurt”

“I know, just get on with it and let me deal with the pain” Sherlock whispered through gritted teeth. John gripped the handle, and pulled it out before pressing his hand down on the wound to stem the flow of blood. Sherlock had screamed when the knife had been pulled out, and stared up at John, breathing heavily.

“It’s okay, father, it doesn’t look too bad” John assured him, and Sherlock smiled slightly.

“John, you are so caring. I’m fine, look” he gently moved John’s hands away, and John saw the wound had stopped bleeding and was healing rapidly. Sherlock sighed, and stood, taking John’s arm and dragging him into the bathroom.

“Wash the blood off. Dragon’s blood can be like acid if left for too long” he muttered grimly, watching John scrub his hands clean. After drying his hands, John hugged Sherlock.

“Are you alright, father?” he asked.

“I’m fine, John. All healed”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s not your fault”

“She’s my sister”

“That doesn’t make it your fault” Sherlock murmured quietly, patting John’s shoulder. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder.

“It is my fault for not talking to her” John mumbled. Sherlock sighed, took John’s shoulders and crouched down, looking John in the eye.

“It is not your fault, John, it’s mine. I’m sorry for being such a monster”

“You aren’t a monster, father”

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me as well”

“There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with than you, father”

“Thank you. Now come here” Sherlock smiled and pulled John into a tight hug. 

“I love you father”

“Love you too, John, I’ve told you that before”

“It’s nice to hear that someone cares about me. Harry... hates me, always has done. There’s no one left for me except you”

“I will always be here, John, I promise”


	22. Chapter 22

A couple of weeks before the end of term and John walked up to meet Sherlock from work. He headed into the reception, and the receptionist looked up.

“Hey, John. Oh, before you go looking for your father, just to say we’re throwing a leaving party for him on the last day of term. Make sure he turns up, please?”

“Sure. Am I invited?”

“Of course you are” 

“Cool. I’d better go and find him now”

“Sure”

John hummed as he walked through the school, and tapped on the door of his old tutor room.

“Come in John!” Sherlock called, and John shook his head as he opened the door.

“How did you know it was me? It could have been anyone” he muttered and Sherlock smirked, picking up his things.

“Because no one else comes to see me at this time of day except for you when you’re walking me home”

“Ah, okay. Ready then?”

“Sure thing. Coming for a flight tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything. Who knows how long it’ll be before we’re back in London?”

“My bet is twenty years. That’s the longest I’ve ever left London for” Sherlock replied as they headed home.

 

John arrived at just gone twelve on the last day of term, and was told to fetch Sherlock from tutor for the party in the main hall.

“You do realise he’s going to flip out about this?” John checked, and they laughed.

“That’s why we’re sending you in first”

John shook his head, and paused before opening the tutor door. He could hear Sherlock laughing as his tutor group gave him leaving presents, and he smiled and pushed open the door. Sherlock looked up, and his eyes widened.

“John?” he asked.

“Yep, it’s me. Come on” John grinned, taking Sherlock’s arm and dragging him to his feet.

“Where are we going?”

“Not telling” John replied, bracing himself as he tied the blindfold around his father’s eyes.

“John...” Sherlock protested, his hands scrambling through the air around him. He reached up to pull off the blindfold, and John smacked his hand down.

“No peeking”

“But John...”

“Be quiet. No more whining please” John told him, taking Sherlock’s arm and leading him towards the door, the class getting up and following. Sherlock walked straight into the wall.

“Ow” he muttered, and John took his arm again.

“There’s a wall there. Be careful” John replied as they headed down to the main hall. One of the tutor group went in and gave everyone inside the thumbs up, and the tutor group followed to wait inside. John paused before opening the door.

“Why have we stopped?”

“Because we have” John replied with a sigh, before leading his father inside. He dropped Sherlock’s arm and reached up to remove the blindfold. Sherlock blinked in the sudden light, and everyone started clapping.

“Surprise!”

Sherlock shook his head, laughing at the sight of the huge banner spelling out ‘Good luck Mr Holmes’ being waved by his tutor group and the sign pinned to the wall saying ‘Goodbye and good luck Sherlock’ in big letters. People swarmed him, and started shaking his hand, pulling him around and wishing him luck with his move to America. John stood back, and was joined by one of Sherlock’s tutor group members.

“Hi. You’re John, right?”

“Yeah, I am. Who are you?” John asked.

“Mia. Um... I have something for Mr Holmes but I didn’t want to give it to him in front of everyone”

“Want me to give it to him?”

“I want to do it in person. Can you come with me though?” Mia asked, blushing. John nodded.

“Sure. We’ll wait a couple of minutes until he’s free” he replied, looking back at his father who was now being dragged between several different people, some of them just shaking his hand and others hugging him and wishing him luck. He was laughing, his eyes bright, and kept thanking everyone. It was another ten minutes before he disentangled himself from Lucy the science teacher who had been hugging him for at least three minutes, sobbing that he was a brilliant person and she would miss him. He smoothed his blazer, and headed towards John.

“You’ve got a lot to answer for, John, organizing this behind my back” he muttered sternly, although he was still grinning widely.

“I didn’t organise it. The others did, I was just invited and told to fetch you” John replied, and Sherlock shook his head.

“Thanks anyway” he smiled, before noticing Mia stood beside John looking up at him.

“Hi Mia. You’ve met John?”

“Yes” Mia mumbled in a quiet voice.

“Mia wanted to talk to you” John murmured and Sherlock looked back at Mia, slightly surprised.

“Sure thing. What’s up Mia?”

“I... I wanted to give you this... and say thank you for being the best tutor. You were always so nice to me” Mia mumbled, blushing bright red and holding out a wrapped box, which Sherlock took, surprised.

“Thank you Mia. That means a lot to me” he murmured quietly as he opened the box. Inside was a glass paper weight with a black and fire pattern. Sherlock held it up, and smiled widely, his eyes flickering for a fraction of a second.

“Thank you Mia. This is lovely”

“That’s alright. You seemed to like fire, and it looked like fire, so it fitted” Mia mumbled quietly and he grinned widely.

“Thank you” he smiled before placing the paperweight carefully back in the box as someone appeared beside him, pulling the box from his hands and giving it to John. Sherlock looked around, surprised, as he was dragged back and shoved onto the stage.

“Speech!” someone called and he blinked before nodding slightly.

“Um... thank you for organizing all of this for me. I had no idea that I meant so much to you. I’m going to miss working here, I know that” 

He paused, glancing around at everyone in turn.

“I want to thank you for not only organizing this for me, but also for accepting me into your ranks and supporting me for my entire time here. I’d also like to thank my son John, who managed to keep this whole thing quiet for who knows how long. I’m going to miss all of you. Yes, even you Philip” he chuckled, looking at Mr Mason, who rolled his eyes. The head teacher stepped forward, and stood on the stage beside Sherlock, and handed him a gold plaque. 

“We are naming the science wing of the school the Holmes block, in honour of one of our most skilled and loved teachers” he announced, and Sherlock blinked rapidly to stop himself from crying as his picture was taken with the plaque. He smiled, and gestured for John to join him, who climbed onto the stage slightly nervously. Sherlock put his arm around John’s shoulders, and they had another photo taken to loud applause.

 

“Only thing is now we have to get this home...” Sherlock sighed after the party, looking at all the presents from his tutor group.

“Come on, we can manage it” John replied, helping Sherlock pick up several boxes and bags. “What did they give you anyway?”

“Mostly chocolates, a couple of bottles of wine and mugs and stuff”

“That’s nice”

“Hmm yeah. Seen as we’re not moving for another three days, after a quick flight tonight why don’t we have a movie night with all these chocolates and stuff?”

“Sounds good” 

 

John ran his hands over the dragon’s snout gently, and the dragon purred quietly.

“I’m going to miss this” John muttered.

“It’s not like I’m going to stop changing, John. I’ll still become a scary dragon every night”

“You aren’t scary”

“Are you sure?” the dragon asked, baring his fangs.

“I’m sure. I trust you”

“Good. I wouldn’t hurt you anyway. Come on, I need to stretch my wings”

“Alright, alright” John quickly scrambled onto the dragon’s back, who bounded down the alley and soared into the sky.

“Just think of it as you get a different view. You get New York instead of London”

“Aren’t there loads of skyscrapers?”

“Yeah. It’s more fun for me it’s like an obstacle course”

“No crashing into buildings please” John muttered and the dragon rumbled loudly.

“I promise I won’t”

“What is that noise you make?”

“What noise?”

“Just then you sort of did this rumble thing”

“I was laughing”

“Oh. Okay. I just wondered because it sounded like your stomach”

“My stomach makes a different noise, and I am not that hungry right now anyway”

“Good to know”

“If I was that hungry, you’d know it. My stomach makes this noise like a giant tank being tortured”

“Right...”

“I’m fine, John”

“I never said anything”

“You smell worried”

“I smell worried? What does that mean?”

“I can smell emotions and stuff and taste them in the air. You smell worried. I don’t like it”

“Sorry. I always worry about you though”

“I know. But when you get really worried, I can smell it”

“Does it smell good?”

“No. It doesn’t. It’s sort of hard to describe though. When I first transformed in front of you, you smelt so scared I thought you would keel over”

“Thanks. I was scared, of course I was. It’s not every day that you see your teacher turn into a dragon in front of you”

“Sorry. Ready to land?”

“Sure”

The dragon soared back down to the alleyway, and John slid from his back, touching the dragon’s snout gently before stepping back and allowing him to change. Sherlock sighed as he fully returned to human form, and smiled at John.

“That was fun. Shall we go and have our movie night now?”

“Yep”

“You alright? You’re quiet” Sherlock asked as they headed home.

“Yeah, I’m fine”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Trying to imagine what it sounds like when you get hungry” John replied, and Sherlock laughed.

“You’ve never heard it because you always make sure I eat properly. It sounds the same in human form. It’s so loud you can hear it from another room”

“You have a big appetite though”

“I have to considering my size”

“I know. Although right now you’re alright”

“Thanks. You will tell me if I get fat again, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. I hope it won’t happen again”

“Shouldn’t do. I’ll be careful. And you’re with me, so I’m fine”

“You aren’t hungry now?”

“A bit yeah. I usually am after I turn back. I sometimes have a snack before bed”

“I see”

 

“Right, what film shall we watch?” Sherlock asked, flicking on the TV. John held his hand out for the remote, and Sherlock refused, so he tried to grab it. Sherlock moved it up out of his reach, laughing, and John jumped up, still missing the remote and falling on Sherlock’s shoulder. He scrambled back quickly.

“Did I hurt you father?” he asked.

“Landing on my shoulder? No. You’re quite light for a human”

“Thanks. Can I have the remote now?”

“No”

“Please?”

“No” Sherlock started skimming through the channels, looking for something to watch. John watched for a moment, before tackling Sherlock again, scrambling for the remote. He grabbed Sherlock’s shirt, and when Sherlock pushed him away and he fell onto the floor, he pulled Sherlock with him. They landed with a thud on the floor, and laughed, picking themselves up. Sherlock still refused to hand over the remote. John huffed quietly, watching Sherlock skim through the channels looking for something to watch, knowing he would probably get hurt if he attempted to take the remote again, when he heard the loudest rumbling sound he had ever heard. Sherlock sighed and placed a hand against his stomach.

“Told you it was loud” he muttered.

“Go and get something to eat” John told him.

“Fine. You find something to watch, I’ll be back in a minute” Sherlock stood, and his stomach rumbled again.

“Alright, shut it” he mumbled, and John rolled his eyes.

“Get on with it. Or am I going to have whatever we watch interrupted every five minutes?”

“I’m going, I’m going” Sherlock huffed, heading into the kitchen. John heard his stomach rumble again. “Shut up, will you?” Sherlock muttered, and John shook his head as he flicked through the channels until he found the perfect kid’s film for the situation. Sherlock came back into the room with a couple of steaks on a plate, and flopped back on the sofa.

“So what are we watching?” he asked, biting into the steak. “Is this a kid’s film?”

“Yeah. It’s perfect for us”

“Oh yeah? What’s it called?” Sherlock asked, just as the title of the film was displayed on screen, causing him to choke slightly. “’How to train your dragon?’ Really?” he snorted.

“Yeah. Maybe it will give me some tips on how to train you?”

“I don’t need training”

“If you say so”

“Here. Have some chocolates” Sherlock shoved one of his numerous boxes at John, who laughed.

“Thanks father” he murmured quietly, returning his attention to the film and ignoring Sherlock chewing the steak beside him. After a few minutes, Sherlock leaned across and took one of the chocolates. A minute later and he snorted at the film.

“This is so inaccurate it’s unbelievable” 

“Oh shut up. Just because he’s a different dragon to you”

“He’s got black scales”

“So?”

“It looks good”

“You jealous?”

“What? Me? No. Why would I be jealous of an animated dragon?”

“Because he’s got black scales? And, for the record, you look good as a dragon with your red scales”

“Thanks John. Still, the black scales...” Sherlock mused, running his fingers through his hair.

“Are you going to talk through the whole thing?” John asked, chucking a chocolate in the air. Sherlock leaned up and gracefully caught the chocolate in his mouth.

“Thank you”

“It was meant to shut you up”

“Sorry”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock move to New York

“John?” Sherlock asked, knocking on the bedroom door. John rolled over and looked up.

“What?” he yawned.

“Come on, we’ve got to go now. The plane leaves in a few hours” Sherlock told him, striding into the room. John sat up and rubbed his head whilst Sherlock checked the room.

“Um, father?”

“Yes?” Sherlock asked, opening the wardrobe to check John hadn’t left anything.

“Would you mind waiting outside whilst I get dressed?”

“Oh. Sure thing. Meet you downstairs in ten minutes?”

“Okay” John replied, and Sherlock smiled, nodded once and swept gracefully from the room. John hurriedly pulled on his clothes, before looking around the room again. He sighed, and shut the door, heading downstairs. Sherlock was curled up in his chair, and looked up when John walked in.

“All ready?” he asked, and John nodded. “I thought we’d take a walk before we go to the airport. Coming?”

“Um... sure” John replied, slightly uncertain. Sherlock stood and pulled on his coat.

“Come on then”

 

They walked briskly to the graveyard, and John realised. He was saying goodbye. They stopped first at John’s parent’s graves, and Sherlock stood back after handing him some flowers to lay down. John crouched down.

“We’re moving to New York. I’ll miss you. But we’ll be back” he murmured quietly, before straightening and looking at Sherlock, who bowed his head. They visited Irene’s grave next, and it was John’s turn to stand back as Sherlock crouched down, running his fingers over the name. 

“We’re going to New York. But we’ll be back, I promise, my love. I miss you” he whispered, touching the name again and murmuring something quietly in Spanish. He straightened, and turned back to face John, who patted his shoulder.

“We’ll be back, father”

“I know” he replied, glancing back at the grave again before they walked away. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around London with a sigh. John touched his arm.

“It’s going to be alright, father”

“I know it will be, John. I’ve done this many times, leaving London. Never with someone else, though”

“You’re never going to be alone, anymore, father. You’re never going to be alone again, I promise”

“Thank you John”

 

“Father?” John asked when they had settled into their seats on the plane.

“Yes John?” Sherlock asked, glancing at his son.

“What if we crash?”

“I’ll keep you safe, John. It will be fine”

“Are you going to get a job when we get there? Do I have to get a job?”

“Not unless you want to. Up to you. I’ll probably look for something myself, but nothing like I had before. No teaching for awhile”

“Okay. What about your... condition?” John asked gently, glancing at the people nearby. 

“Hmm I’ll change a few hours after we get there, won’t change this evening and then after that I’ll change in the evenings. It takes a day for my body to get used to the time differences”

“You’re going flying in broad daylight?”

“No, I’ll change in the basement”

“Oh right. Makes sense” John settled back as the plane took off.

 

A couple of hours into the flight and John nodded off in the middle of one of the films, and fell asleep with his head propped against Sherlock’s shoulder, who glanced around in surprise when he first felt John’s head touch him. He sighed, and patted John’s head lightly, before glaring at the people across from him who were staring open mouthed. 

“Quit staring” Sherlock hissed, and they dropped their gazes, embarrassed.

 

“John. Wake up”

John opened his eyes slowly, registering the pain in his neck from where he had fallen asleep. He also realised he had fallen asleep on Sherlock’s shoulder, and sat up quickly.

“Sorry father, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you” he mumbled quietly and Sherlock chuckled under his breath as the plane landed.

“It’s fine, John, if I had minded I would have woken you sooner”

“Okay. Are we there?”

“Just touched down in New York”

 

After collecting their luggage, they headed out of the airport, Sherlock glancing around and sniffing the air, brow furrowed.

“He said he’d be here...” he muttered, looking around still.

“Who?” John asked as Sherlock smiled widely, evidently spotting who he was looking for. A young man pushed his way through the crowd, and bowed his head when he stopped in front of Sherlock, before holding his hand out. Sherlock gripped his hand and patted the man on the shoulder, grinning.

“Good to see you, my friend”

“And you, Mr Holmes”

“Might I introduce my son, John?”

“Ah yes you said you had a son now. Nice to meet you kid. I’m Sam” the man smiled, holding his hand out towards John politely, who shook it and smiled back.

“Nice to meet you too” he murmured. Sam then took Sherlock’s case, who in turn took John’s, causing Sam to tut.

“The idea was I was to help you with the luggage”

“You are. I am helping John” Sherlock replied as they headed outside and Sam hailed a taxi, loading the cases inside. John climbed in first, with Sherlock following, folding his tall frame into the middle seat with Sam on his other side.

“So, Sam, how have you been?” Sherlock asked as the taxi pulled out into the traffic.

“I’ve been well, although this last week has been a bit hectic sorting everything out for you. I hope you find everything to your liking, Mr Holmes”

“I’m sure I will” Sherlock grinned, leaning close to talk to John.

“Sam’s an old friend of mine who looks after my place while I’m away. You’ll find that I have many old friends looking after my numerous properties”

“That’s nice” John mumbled quietly, staring out the window at New York.

“I also look after the place while he’s there because he usually forgets to do housework and stuff. I don’t mind, it gives me something to do and he pays me well”

“Apart from that time you refused to do anything because you wanted a pay rise” Sherlock muttered.

“That was ages ago” Sam replied. “I have not complained since then, Mr Holmes”

“Hmm true. Did you stock the fridge as well like I asked?”

“I did, yes”

“Good. John gets all paranoid if I don’t follow my diet”

“I do not get paranoid” John protested.

“Yeah, you do. Mike knows I’m back?”

“I went and spoke to him yesterday. He knows to expect you within the week”

“Good, good” Sherlock sighed as the taxi stopped outside a tall apartment building, and after paying the driver they scrambled out onto the path, Sam pulling out the cases before the taxi drove away again. Sam once again took Sherlock’s case, and Sherlock took John’s case and they headed into the building, John looking around in awe at what was clearly an expensive building as they headed into the lift and Sam hit the button that would take them up to the top floor. Sherlock glanced at him anxiously.

“You alright, John?” he asked gently.

“I’m fine, father” John replied with a smile, and Sherlock smiled back, and Sam sighed.

“I never thought I’d hear someone call you that, Mr Holmes” he remarked as the lift opened and Sherlock led the way out. There was only one apartment on the floor, which Sherlock opened with a set of keys from his pocket. He stepped back and allowed John and Sam in first, John staring around in awe.

“Wow”

“You like it?” Sherlock asked, and John nodded.

Sherlock then led them on a tour, showing John the kitchen, the bathroom, the main bedroom and the bedroom that was now John’s. He also pointed out a private elevator tucked in the far corner.

“That is our private elevator that takes us either down one floor to Sam’s apartment or the basement. If you’re going out, use the main elevator”

“Okay” John replied, glancing around and realising that Sam had disappeared. They headed back through to find Sam had flopped in one of the armchairs, causing Sherlock to growl quietly.

“Out of my chair”

“Sorry, Mr Holmes, just seeing if you were still possessive of it” Sam smirked, standing again. “I’d better be off then, leave you two to get settled. Good to see you again, Mr Holmes” he shook their hands and left, shutting the door carefully behind him as Sherlock settled himself in his chair with a sigh, John sitting opposite.

“Nice to be back” Sherlock muttered, resting his head back and closing his eyes.

 

A couple of hours later, and Sherlock and John headed downstairs in the elevator to the basement. Sherlock snapped the lights on, and John saw it was pretty much identical to the room below Baker Street in London. He stayed back whilst Sherlock transformed, waiting until the dragon had curled up against the wall before stepping closer and running his hands over the dragon’s scales.

“You alright?” he checked, and the dragon bowed his head.

“I’m perfectly fine, John, although we’re about to have company”

John looked around as Sam stepped out of the elevator and grinned at them.

“Everything alright, Mr Holmes?” he asked, stepping forward and touching the dragon’s neck lightly.

“Perfectly fine, thank you Sam”

“Still changing then?”

“Yes, regrettably. I still have not gained full control over it”

“Ah well. I’m assuming when you transform at night you’ll fly about and scare everyone”

“It never scared people before”

“I’m just messing with you”

“Hmm”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in updating! This week has been pretty hectic....
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are much appreciated :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns a bit more about Sherlock's kind

“Hey, Martin”

“John? Is that you, Brit boy? What’s up?”

“Oh, not much. I’ve moved to New York”

“What? Really?” Martin asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I am in New York. How’s you?” John asked. 

“I’m good. Want to meet up?”

“Sure thing”

“Meet me outside the library in an hour?”

“Sure”

“See you then, John”

“See you”

John put the phone down, and Sherlock looked up.

“Going out then?” he asked, and John nodded.

“Yeah. Want to come?”

“Why would you want me to come with you when you’re meeting your friend?” Sherlock asked, surprised.

“He’ll want to meet you. He’s heard me talking about you often enough” John replied, and Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“And what exactly did you tell him about me?” 

“That I had an amazing adoptive father”

“Thank you” Sherlock smiled and stood, wandering into his bedroom to get dressed. John leaned against the doorframe.

“Yes?” Sherlock asked as he pulled off his dressing gown.

“Just wanted to see your room”

“Oh. Right” Sherlock muttered, opening the wardrobe and looking for a clean shirt whilst John looked around.

“Father...”

“Yes?”

“Is that a harpoon?” John asked, pointing to the corner of the room. Sherlock looked around, and grinned.

“Yeah, it is. Why?”

“Why do you need a harpoon?”

“Hunting”

“Hunting what, exactly?”

“Stuff”

“Not people?” John asked.

“Of course not” Sherlock replied, fastening his blazer and leaving the room.

“Good to hear” John chuckled, following, and Sherlock laughed.

“I meant to say, I’ve got a job interview tomorrow”

“Really? Where?” John asked.

“Some office as a secretary. I didn’t fancy teaching”

“But you’re a good teacher”

“Thank you, John, but the system’s different in America and I’d get confused. Shall we go and meet your friend then?”

 

John stayed home whilst Sherlock went to his job interview the next morning. He had wished his father luck, and was now looking at a morning of nothing to do. He sighed, and was skimming through the TV channels when Sam walked in, seeming startled to see John.

“Hi. I was just coming to change the bed sheets” he mumbled, and John switched off the TV.

“I’ll help if you like” he murmured, standing up.

“No, no! You don’t have to, honest, I don’t mind” Sam protested.

“Neither do I. It’ll make it quicker” John replied and Sam sighed, slumping in defeat as he headed into Sherlock’s room.

“So where’s Mr Holmes today then?” Sam asked, picking up a pillow.

“Job interview as a secretary”

“That’s... nice”

“Are you okay, Sam?”

“Hmm yes... just wondering whether I’m going to get into trouble for letting you help me”

“Why would you get in trouble?”

“Mr Holmes is very fussy about what I do”

“I’m sure he won’t mind. How come you ended up becoming his friend?”

“I... I was homeless. A few of the immortal ones that can’t change form are, because we are usually kicked out of the family in disgust because we can’t change. I accidently walked into the alleyway, looking for somewhere to sleep for the night when he was changing into the dragon. I tried to run, but he stopped me, and asked me to wait for him to return from his flight. I waited, and when he changed back he asked me some questions, and asked if I would mind keeping an eye on his flat for him because he was going away for a few weeks to Spain. I was going to decline, but he offered me a decent payment and some food. I hadn’t eaten for a few days, so I accepted. He let me stay here while he was away, and when he got back and saw I had kept it tidy for him, so he helped me pay to rent the flat downstairs, and promised that for as long as I looked after this place for him I would not be homeless”

“How long have you known him then?” John asked, curious.

“I’ve been under Mr Holmes’s employment for thirty years now” Sam replied, smoothing down the bed sheets and picking up the dirty ones. “I’ll just change your sheets and then I’d better get these off to the dry cleaners”

“Okay. Is he nice to you, though?”

“Nice? Mr Holmes? Hardly. He has his moments, but mostly he barks orders at me and is really abrupt. I don’t mind though”

“Are you sure? That’s not really fair on you if he shouts at you all the time”

“It’s a part of his nature”

“I could talk to him, maybe, and get him to be nicer”

“He is nice. Well, he’s not, he’s rude and obnoxious most of the time. But since you seemed to have appeared in his life he isn’t quite as bad as before. I really don’t mind at all”

“It just doesn’t seem fair” John muttered, helping Sam smooth down his sheets.

“What doesn’t seem fair?” a deep voice asked from the doorway, and they both spun around guiltily. Sam dropped the bed sheets in surprise when he saw Sherlock leaning against the door frame. “John, what are you doing?”

“Helping Sam”

“I see” Sherlock frowned slightly, glaring at Sam, who hurriedly bent down to scoop up the fallen bed sheets, blushing. 

“Sorry, sir, I did tell him that I was fine changing the sheets by myself” he muttered, moving to leave the room, only to be blocked by Sherlock’s arm.

“We’ll have a talk later, Sam, yes? Now, if you don’t mind, I need to talk to my son”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir” Sam mumbled, hurrying from the flat. Sherlock turned to John, and sighed, beckoning for him to follow out to the front room.

“John, Sam is under my employment, and you should not feel the need to assist him with his work” Sherlock sighed, flopping in his chair. John settled himself opposite.

“I know, but it didn’t seem fair that he change the sheets on his own whilst I sat back watching TV” John mumbled, and Sherlock sighed again, running his fingers through his hair.

“Do you know why I employed Sam?”

“He said it was because you needed someone to look after your flat while you went away for a few weeks”

“Hmm yes. Did he tell you what he is?”

“He said he was immortal but with no shape shifting powers”

“He is. His kind are known as ifrits. There are an increasing number of people like that, born to powerful families but they themselves are powerless. They serve those of us with powers, usually their families, although in many cases they are kicked out in disgust, and are left homeless forever unless they find work with one of us shape shifters”

“That’s not fair”

“Neither is leaving them on the streets for hundreds of years. They are all over the world, in every country. I have many of them under my employment”

“That makes them sound like slaves”

“They aren’t slaves. Some shape shifters do treat them like slaves. I, however, do not”

“Why are you abrupt to Sam then?” John asked.

“If I am, it is unintentional. I am known to be impatient, but I am certainly more lenient than others of my kind that I have met. You have to remember, John, I am half dragon, and therefore I can be abrupt and dangerous if angry”

“What are the others like? Are they dragons too?”

“No. I am the only half dragon in existence. The others turn into phoenixes, griffins, pegasi, that sort of thing. They see themselves as powerful over lords, superior to everyone in every way, and therefore command the ifrits as slaves. I once came across a griffin who kept them chained at night. I am not like that”

“Then what...”

“I employ them to work for me, yes, but I do not chain them, beat them or command them as slaves. They are my employees, my friends, almost, and I make it clear to them when I hire them that they are free to leave my employment at any time they wish to”

“How many have you employed?”

“Hmm... well, you’ve met Mrs Hudson, who looks after Baker Street. Sam looks after this place. I have a couple in Spain, one in Italy and about six in China”

“Six? What do you need six for?”

“I told you, when I stayed in China, I was worshipped every night as a god. No doubt if we return there that I will once again become a powerful symbol sent from their gods to protect them all. I employed one, who, after discovering that I turned into the dragon, told his friends, and then I had them all begging for employment. I could not turn them back out onto the street. They await my return anxiously, knowing that I will arrive when the time is right”

“When the time is right?”

“I usually co-inside my stay in China with the year of the dragon, obviously. We will be returning to China in four years time”

“Sounds good”

“It can be, yes. Are you happier now that I don’t keep slaves?”

“Yes”

“Good. I still need to have a word with Sam when he gets back from the dry cleaners though. I’ll send him a message and ask him to come here” Sherlock sighed, pulling out his phone and sending a text message.

“Don’t be mean, it wasn’t his fault”

“I know. I am not mean to him. He knows he is welcome to leave anytime he chooses, but he also knows that if he did he would be homeless again”

“He’s a nice person”

“He is, yes. That’s why, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, that he always calls me Mr Holmes rather than Sherlock. All of them do”

“Mrs Hudson didn’t”

“She looked after me after my parents died, and when Irene died. She’s like a second mother to me, and I told her years ago that I wouldn’t mind if she called me Sherlock. I’m a lot closer to her than the others” Sherlock replied as there was a knock on the front door, and Sam poked his head in nervously.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Indeed, yes. Do come in” Sherlock gestured for Sam to take a seat, and he did so, perching on the edge nervously. “There’s no need to look so petrified, Sam. I’m not going to bite your head off”

“Sorry, sir”

“Now, I have explained to John the terms of your employment and I hope you understand that it is fine by me if John wishes to help you with any of your duties”

“Thank you sir. He’s a nice lad”

“Yes, he is. That was all, you can go now” Sherlock waved his hand airily, and Sam stood, bowed his head, and left quickly. Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

“Hey, father, how was your interview?” John asked, remembering where Sherlock had gone that morning.

“Oh, it wasn’t too bad. They said they’d call me at about four to let me know”

“That’s good”

“Hmm yeah, it is”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Bit tired. I might change downstairs tonight”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Sure. You know I don’t mind” Sherlock smiled, and John laughed.

“I still haven’t been for a flight around New York”

“I know. I’ll take you tomorrow, I promise. I’m not up to it tonight”

“Fair enough. It’s fine”

 

At just gone four, Sherlock’s mobile rang, and he fished through his pocket for it, and pressed answer.

“Hello? Yes, it is” Sherlock paused, listening, and John looked up. “Yes, thank you. I’ll see you soon, thank you again” He put the phone down and turned to John, and smiled. “I got the job. I’m starting next Monday”

“Well done father, you’ll be brilliant” John hugged Sherlock, who laughed and patted his back.

“Thanks John. You always believe in me”

“Of course I do father”

 

That evening, John followed Sherlock downstairs into the basement, watching his father transform. The dragon then curled up on the ground, his long tail curling around his paws, his head resting on his paws. John stepped close and touched his snout lightly.

“Are you alright, father?”

“Yes, I am. Just... a bit tired”

“Alright” John sighed and ran his hands over the dragon’s neck again, and the dragon huffed quietly, steam curling from his nostrils. John jerked his hand back quickly. “Ouch”

“Sorry” 

“What was that for?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It usually happens when I’m relaxed”

“Oh. It’s never happened before”

“That’s... because... I’ve never... been this... tired... before” the dragon’s jaw opened wide, and John was coated in his hot breath as he yawned. 

“Your mouth is huge”

“Thanks”

“I mean it. You’ve got huge fangs and a really long tongue”

The dragon rumbled deeply, and his long tongue flickered between his teeth before he licked John’s face.

“Ugh! Don’t do that again! That’s disgusting!” John protested, wiping his sleeve across his wet face as the dragon laughed again. He touched the tip of his tongue against John’s hand instead.

“You’re like an overgrown dog, father”

“Thank you John. Am I yours then?”

“You can be, sure. You are my father after all”

“Love you John”

“I love you too father” John replied, hugging the dragon’s snout gently. The dragon rumbled deeply, and John realised he had fallen asleep and was breathing deeply, his eyes shut. John sighed, and lay down beside the dragon and closed his eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

“John?”

John opened his eyes slowly to see Sherlock’s face above him. He blinked, confused, and Sherlock sighed.

“John, are you alright?”

“What yes I’m fine” John pulled himself into a sitting position, and Sherlock sat back on his feet.

“Good. I was worried for a moment there”

“What for?”

“You weren’t moving”

“That’s usually what happens when someone falls asleep, yes”

“Alright, sorry” Sherlock patted John’s shoulder, his eyes shining.

“You alright now?”

“Yep, I certainly am. I just needed a good sleep”

“Good”

John stood, and pulled Sherlock to his feet. His father smiled at him and led the way back upstairs. They found Sam dusting the mantle, who turned when they entered.

“Good morning Mr Holmes, sir. And you John”

“Morning Sam” Sherlock replied, heading into the kitchen. He emerged a moment later, humming as he flopped on the sofa with his feet up with a plate of steaks, which he started eating. Sam shook his head.

“I’ll never get used to you eating raw meat”

“Sorry, Sam”

“It’s fine, sir. You are a dragon, after all”

“Indeed I am”

“At least he’s keeping up with his diet” John muttered.

“Your diet changed, didn’t it?” Sam asked, and Sherlock nodded around a mouthful of steak.

“Eff ib id” He chewed vigorously for a moment and swallowed. “Yes it did”

“How come? If you don’t mind me asking, sir”

“No, no, it’s fine. I kept passing out all over the place because I wasn’t getting enough nutrition” Sherlock replied, picking up his second steak as John returned with some toast.

“Nearly caused me an injury it did when I was told you’d just collapsed”

“Sorry, John. You keep me in check, don’t you?”

“I have to” John replied, and Sam laughed.

“It’s nice that you have someone to look out for you, Mr Holmes” Sam mumbled. “I’d better be going now. I’ll leave you to whatever you’re doing today. I’ll probably stop by later”

“Thank you Sam”

“No problem, Mr Holmes, sir” Sam bowed his head and left quickly. Sherlock swallowed the rest of his breakfast and licked the blood off his hands with a sigh, resting his hand on his stomach.

“That’s better. Not so hungry now”

“Good”

“What do you want to do today?” 

“I don’t know, why?”

“How about a trip to Central Park? It’s going to be a nice day”

“That sounds fun”

“Okay then. Can I skip my diet at lunch?”

“I suppose so” John muttered and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“I’ll eat again now then. One sec” he disappeared into the kitchen and emerged a minute later with another steak. John shook his head as Sherlock tore off a strip with his teeth.

“You aren’t over eating again, are you?”

“Of course not, John, I’m not going to do that again” Sherlock mumbled.

“Good to hear. Only I saw that we were running out of meat”

“Yeah, we are. We’ll stop by the butchers on the way home from the park, okay?”

“Okay”

 

Sherlock lay down and closed his eyes after finishing lunch, and John watched other people walking around for a moment before looking down at his father, whose eyes opened a fraction.

“Yes?”

“Nothing, nothing”

“Why were you staring at me?”

“I didn’t mean to, sorry”

“No, it’s... fine”

“Father...”

“Yes, John?”

“Do you remember when you started teaching us?”

“Of course I do, John. I have a perfect memory of everything I’ve experienced since I was about five”

“A lot, then?”

“Indeed. My first impression of you was that you were a quiet boy who was intelligent”

“Thank you. Does that mean you remember world war one?”

“Yes, I do. I fought in it”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised! Of course I did. You’ll find that in Belgium my name is listed on the list of fallen British soldiers”

“But...”

“I know I didn’t die, but I had to escape before someone found out I was the dragon. Therefore I simply faked my death”

“How?”

“Well, I got shot, pretended to die and had a friend ensure there were holes in the wooden box I was shipped home to Mycroft in. He pretended to be devastated, held a funeral a few days later whilst I ran to China”

“So your name is actually on a memorial?”

“Yes, it is. I’ll take you to see it one day”

“Cool”

“If you say so. Come on, we’d better get to the butchers”

“Alright” John replied, standing up. Sherlock pulled himself to his feet, and sighed, running his hands through his hair. He smiled at John as they headed out of the park.

“I promise I’ll take you for a flight tonight”

“Thanks”

 

Sherlock hummed, pushing his hands into his coat pockets as they headed to the butchers. He pushed the door open and strode inside, and John followed, seeing it was empty. The moment Sherlock entered the butcher looked up before hurrying forward and bowing his head.

“Mr Holmes” he greeted.

“Mike. I presume Sam informed you I would be stopping by?”

“Oh, yes, yes he did”

“Has he passed on my latest dietary requirements?”

“... No sir”

“I see. I now require more than I used to, if that’s alright with you?”

“Of course, of course, Mr Holmes! What can I get for you?” the butcher asked, and Sherlock rattled off a list of items and cuts of meat, which the butcher hurried to fetch for him. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, who’s the kid with you?”

“Oh, this is my son, John”

“Nice to meet you kid”

“And you” John mumbled.

“John may drop in occasionally to pick stuff up for me”

“Right, okay” the butcher packed the items into a carrier bag. “That’s eighty dollars”

“That sounds about right” Sherlock hummed, pulling out his wallet and handing over the correct amount.

“You never pay by card do you?”

“Cash is easier” Sherlock replied. “Is it a problem?”

“No, no! No problem, sir! Here we go. Have a nice day” the butcher handed over the carrier bag.

“Thank you. Good day” Sherlock swept from the shop with John behind him, who sighed.

“Everyone is so polite to you”

“That’s because of what I am”

“I feel like I’m rude to you”

“You’ve never been rude to me, John”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I don’t mind when it comes to you anyway”

“What makes me different?” John asked as they arrived back at the flat.

“You’re my son. People like Mike the butcher are merely acquaintances of mine who assist me. If I was that bothered if you were rude to me, I would have said. But you’ve never been rude to me”

“Thank you”

“I hope you trust me, John, when I say that you are the most important in my life”

“I am?”

“Of course you are, John, you’re my son, and the only one who I’ve really... claimed”

“Thank you, father. You’re important to me too” John hugged Sherlock around the middle, who laughed and patted his back as Sam walked in. He froze when he saw them hugging, and John pulled back.

“Sam. Something wrong?” Sherlock asked, resting his hand on John’s shoulder, still smiling.

“Yes sir, there is”

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, his hand tightening on John’s shoulder. 

“Father, let go” John murmured gently, and Sherlock released him quickly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you” he mumbled as Sam held out a newspaper, his expression impassive. Sherlock took it and smoothed out the front page on the table, and John peered across to see what they were looking at as Sherlock started choking slightly. 

“New York dragon sentenced to death” the headline read, and underneath was a distant shot of the dragon. 

“Why the hell has this happened?” Sherlock demanded, his eyes flickering bright red, the slit pupils widening.

“I don’t know, I saw it on my way home... I’m sorry, sir, there’s not a lot that can be done” Sam mumbled, and Sherlock flung his hand out and sent Sam flying backwards into the wall before slamming into his bedroom. John immediately rushed over and crouched beside Sam, who flinched.

“No, no, John, I’m fine, really” he mumbled, and John sighed, helping Sam to his feet.

“Does he hit you often?”

“No, that’s the second time he’s done that. It’s only when he loses his temper. Usually I can pick up on the warning signs and get out of the way so he smashes something else instead. Guess I wasn’t quick enough today”

“He did it to me, once”

“He did? You’re his son though”

“Yeah, I know. He was angry one night and playing his violin so viciously that he snapped some of the strings. I grabbed him to try and get him to stop and he smacked me across the face. He realised what he’d done and kept apologising after that”

“Give him about an hour and he’ll calm down. I wouldn’t recommend following him until then...” 

 

“He should be alright now” he murmured gently after awhile and John approached the bedroom cautiously, knocking on the door and opening it. He instantly spotted Sherlock hunched over in the corner by the window before he moved cautiously into the room and touched Sherlock’s shoulder. His father looked up.

“John?”

“Yes, father, its me”

“They’re going to kill me”

“No, father, they aren’t” John told him gently.

“What can I do?”

“I don’t think you’ll be transforming outside here again” John sighed and Sherlock sighed.

“Why do they hate me?”

“I don’t know, father”

“John?”

“Yes?”

“Stay with me”

“Of course, father” John patted his father’s back gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in updating! I've been super busy with work and my birthday last week I'm sorry!  
> I'll try and update quickly!
> 
> As always, many thanks for the kudos/comments :)
> 
> Note added 13th September:  
> I'm afraid this story is on hiatus for the foreseeable future due to my laptop completely dying. This will be updated when I can afford a new one. I'm sorry


	26. Chapter 26

“John! Time to go!” Sherlock called, and John hurried out into the main room.

“Ready”  
“Good” Sherlock smiled wearily, and Sam took his case whilst he picked up John’s, leading the way to the taxi that drove the three of them to the airport.  
When it came to the time to say goodbye, Sam shook John’s hand, smiling sadly, and then bowed his head as he shook Sherlock’s hand.

“Anytime, Mr Holmes that you want to come back. I’ll deal with the press”

“Thank you, Sam. You’ve been as helpful as ever”

“Have a good time in China”

“I’m sure we will. Thank you again, Sam”

“Anytime, Mr Holmes, sir”

 

John glanced at Sherlock anxiously as they settled into their seats on the plane.

“Are you sure about this, father?”

“Yes, I am. It’s almost Chinese New Year. The year of the dragon”

“Father, it’s going to be alright now”

“I miss New York already and we haven’t left”

“I know. I’m sure Sam will sort everything out so we can go back one day”

“I hope so”

“I’m with you”

“I know you are John”

 

When they arrived at the airport, they were greeted by a short man who rushed forward and bowed to Sherlock, saying something in Chinese, which Sherlock responded to with a smile. He then gestured to John and murmured something else, and the man bowed, shaking John’s hand.

“Pleased... to meet you” he mumbled slightly uncertainly and John smiled.

“Pleased to meet you too” he replied politely.

“Lin speaks little English, so if he doesn’t understand straight away don’t be harsh” Sherlock told John, who nodded as Lin picked up their cases and ushered them out to the waiting taxi. He held the door open for them before climbing in beside Sherlock. Sherlock started talking in rapid fire Chinese, asking Lin questions, which he responded to, his eyes bright. 

The taxi pulled up as darkness began to fall, and Sherlock paid the driver before the three of them climbed out and fetched their cases from the boot. Sherlock touched John’s shoulder and led him up the path to a huge manor house, and John’s mouth fell open. 

“Is this really yours?”

“Of course it is. Come on, I’ve got an hour before... the celebrations begin” Sherlock replied, and they headed inside. Lin put down the cases, and switched on the lights, and five others hurried out and bowed before Sherlock, kneeling on the floor and kissing his hand. He smiled, and murmured something in Chinese, and they all stood again. He gestured to John and repeated what he’d said earlier to Lin, and they all smiled at him, patting his shoulders and arms and saying several things in Chinese that he didn’t understand. Sherlock noticed his confused expression and smirked.

“John does not speak Chinese yet, so if possible please speak English for him” he informed them and they all nodded. “Right, John, this is Soo, Lij, Fai, Rou and Jian” 

“Pleased to meet you” John mumbled.

“Jian speaks the best English because he’s bilingual, so if you have any queries its best to see him” Sherlock added, and John nodded and Jian waved to him.

“It is my honour to serve you”

 

That evening, Sherlock and John were accompanied by all six of Sherlock’s friends, who went to join the celebrations and await his arrival. Sherlock sighed as he transformed, and John waited until the dragon bowed his head beside him before stepping closer.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, John, fine. They’re waiting for me, so we’d better go”

“Alright” John scrambled onto the dragon’s back, settling himself between the wing joints. The dragon spread his wings and soared into the sky. He roared, blasting a column of flame at the sky, and people applauded, pointing up at him and shouting and laughing.

“They’re saying ‘look the great dragon has returned to us’” 

“Thanks for the translation”

“’It is a sign of good fortune for all’”

“It is?”

“Of course it is. How many dragons have you met?”

“Just you, father”

 

“Mr John?”

John sat up, and saw one of Sherlock’s employees stood in the doorway. 

“Hi, um... Jian?”

“Yes, I am Jian. Mr Holmes asked me to come and wake you”

“Right, okay” 

“Is everything okay Mr John?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine”

“I shall leave you to get dressed now. Mr Holmes wishes to meet you in the front room downstairs”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes” John replied, and Jian bowed his head before leaving the room. 

 

“Ah, John, good morning” Sherlock murmured as John walked into the room. Fai handed him a plate of meat, bowing her head and he smiled. “Thank you Fai” he smiled as she handed John a plate of toast. She bowed her head again and left the room.

“You alright John?” Sherlock asked as he started his breakfast.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“I’m alright”

“I feel like I don’t quite fit yet because I don’t speak Chinese”

“Hmm you can learn. It’s not that hard”

“Will you teach me?”

“I will when I can, John, but I do in fact have a job that starts today”

“Oh. Right. What’s the job?”

“Secretary work. That’s all I’m good at outside of England. You’ll be alright on your own, right, John?”

“Um, sure” John mumbled. Sherlock sighed quietly, and called out in Chinese. A couple of minutes later and all six of his employees entered and stood to attention. 

“John, just a quick run through of people’s responsibilities here. Fai deals with the kitchen and cooks and stuff. Soo and Lij do the dusting and housework and stuff. Rou does the washing. Lin accompanies me most places. Jian, your previous duties of technology maintenance also includes looking after John”

“Do I need looking after?”

“When I say looking after, I mean ensuring you are alright and don’t get lost if you go out. You are free to do what you want”

“Right, okay”

“Mr Holmes?”

“Yes, Jian?”Sherlock asked.

“I have a suggestion”

“Which is? You know I’m always welcome to suggestions”

“I could teach Mr John Chinese, sir”

“Ah, yes, that’s a good plan. If that’s alright with you, John, of course”

“It’s fine by me” John smiled, and Sherlock smiled back before standing and smoothing his shirt and fastening his blazer.

“I’m sorry I won’t be around today, John. I’ll be here at the weekend, I promise”

“It’s fine, father. Good luck with your job” John stood and hugged Sherlock quickly, who patted his back.

“Thank you. I’ll see you later. Jian, you’re now in charge”

“Yes sir” They all bowed their heads as Sherlock left the house, before starting their daily work. Jian accompanied John back to his room, and smiled.  
“I understand you are Mr Holmes’s son?”

“Yeah, I am”

“Not his biological child, however. Adopted, I believe he said”

“Yes”

“It is alright if I teach you Chinese?”

“It’s fine”

 

After a few hours, John finally plucked up the courage to ask Jian some questions.

“Jian?”

“Yes, Mr John?”

“How long have you known father?”

“How long have I known Mr Holmes? About sixty years now. Lin has known him the longest”

“Just wondering”

“He is a nice man. He hired us and took us off the streets. He said though after hiring Rou that he would not be hiring anyone else”

“Fair enough. Is he nice to you?”

“He is most definitely. Occasionally dangerous but he means well. A good dragon”

“Occasionally dangerous?” John asked, and Jian sighed, tilting his head so John could see a thin scar on his neck.

“He lost his temper and slashed me with his nails once. Then he started trying to drink the blood. Then he realised what he was doing and kept apologizing for a month after. He is a dragon though. I forgave him, of course I did. He was a lot nicer than my previous employer”

“Your previous employer?”

“Yes. I was employed by a horrible Griffin, Loujan. He hired my brother as well. He is a horrible Griffin, always beating us Ifrits. He chained us at night. One day, we were walking home, and I twisted my ankle, and I was limping. We went down this alleyway and he turned and smacked me for taking so long. He shouted rude things at me, and pushed me to the ground. And then Mr Holmes turned up. I have never seen someone stand up to Loujan. He stepped right into Loujan’s face and shouted at him. He then offered to take me off of Loujan’s hands for a high cost, and Loujan accepted. He left with my brother, and I would never see them again. I was still on the floor, and Mr Holmes crouched beside me. He asked me my name, and told me his name. He helped me up and brought me here, and told me what he was. I saw the other ifrits and I was scared he kept them locked up and hurt them. He examined my ankle and bandaged it for me. I asked him if I would be locked up when he went out, and he seemed surprised and said no, he never locked any of the ifrits up and that if I chose to I was free to leave”

“What happened to your brother?”

“I do not know. Mr Holmes thought it was best that I not see him or Loujan again”

“But he’s been nice to you?”

“He is a nice person. He is my employer and he is so nice to me”

“Nice to hear what you think of me” a deep voice remarked from the doorway, and they spun round, Jian bowing his head respectfully. Sherlock pushed himself from the doorframe and stepped into the room.

“I meant it, sir. You are nice to me”

“Thank you, Jian. How has John been?” Sherlock asked, touching John’s shoulder lightly.

“He is a good boy. Like you. Kind, and caring, and a nice boy”

“Thanks Jian” John mumbled.

“Jian, would you mind if I spoke to John alone?” Sherlock asked quietly, and Jian bowed.

“Of course not, sir” he replied, leaving the room and closing the door. Sherlock watched him go, before turning and sitting down on John’s bed, patting the space beside him. John sat down, and waited for him to speak. 

“Are you alright, John?”

“I’m fine”

“Are you sure? I’m sorry I had to leave you today” 

“It’s fine, father. Jian’s really nice”

“He is, yes. They all are. They’ll do anything for me, and therefore you”

“But you don’t treat them like slaves”

“Slaves do not get paid or receive the amount of freedom that I give them. I do not treat them as slaves, John, I told you that before”

“I know. Jian said you saved him”

“Hmm yes I did. I could not leave him to get beaten up”

“You’re a kind person”

“Thank you, John. I do try not to be horrible”

“He also said you slashed his neck”

“That was an accident. I never meant to hurt him”

“I know that, and he knows that”

“I know. Thank you”

“Are you sure you’re alright, father?”

“Of course I am” Sherlock replied, smiling down at John and nudging him as there was a knock on the door. “Yes?” he called, and Lin entered, bowing his head respectively. “Lin. What can I do for you?” Sherlock asked.

“Sorry, sir, but you asked me to notify you when the post came”

“Ah, yes, I remember. Thank you, Lin” Sherlock smiled as Lin handed him several envelopes. Lin bowed his head, and left again. Sherlock sighed, and flicked through the envelopes. He showed John one of them.

“See these characters? They spell out ‘Sherlock Holmes’”

“Right” 

“I wanted to spend some time with you, John, I feel like I haven’t seen you for ages”

“It’s fine”

“But you’re my son, and I feel I should spend time with you” Sherlock sighed.

“I don’t mind, father. You know I care for you no matter what”

“Thank you John” Sherlock sighed again, and hugged John. “Thank you”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to leave this here - this is the end of this fic (for now - I might continue it in future)
> 
> As always, all comments/kudos are much appreciated! :)


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